


Moth Rising

by GoatVibesOnly



Series: Moth Rising 'verse [1]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Ableism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical language, Complete, Disabled Character, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Found Family, Happy Ending, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Multi, Other, Post-Canon, Religious Discussion, the amount of non cishet characters is high
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 70,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24136960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoatVibesOnly/pseuds/GoatVibesOnly
Summary: Mothpaw glanced at Smokepaw hopefully. “You don’t really think Dad likes me more?”Smokepaw looked away and tucked his soft paws underneath his body. “He does talk to you a lot,” he mumbled.Mothpaw sighed and covered her head with her paws. “This isn’t what I wanted.”“I know,” Smokepaw murmured. “But maybe this is how it has to be.”A young apprentice struggles with her warrior training, unable to catch easy prey, or to mend the growing rift between her and her siblings. When one of the apprentices dies during their warrior assessment, Mothpaw is forced to question her place in the Clans, and whether she has been cursed, or if StarClan even cares about the cats that live around the lake. A story exploring disability in warriors, with a heaping side of gay and wholesome friends and family.
Relationships: Original Character & Original Character, Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Series: Moth Rising 'verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882363
Comments: 138
Kudos: 75





	1. Allegiances

**SHADOWCLAN:**

Leader 

**Berrystar** \- heavyset black-and-white molly with a limp in one hind leg, resulting from a deep scar down her side. 

Deputy 

**Briarstreak** \- aged, long-furred brown tabby molly with blind white eyes.

Medicine Cat 

**Ambereye** \- golden-brown tabby tom with thin fur and amber eyes.

Apprentice, Frogpaw

Warriors 

**Acorntuft -** thickset, mottled, light brown tom. 

**Birdsong -** neat tortoiseshell-and-white nonbinary cat. 

**Weedwhisker** \- gray tabby molly with silvery-green eyes. 

**Grasseyes -** speckled white tom with emerald green eyes.

Apprentice, Pricklepaw

**Shortleg** \- gray (with darker flecks) nonbinary cat with unusually short legs and one club hind paw.

Apprentice, Mothpaw

**Meadowstripe** \- light silver tabby tom with dark stripes; trans. 

Apprentice, Troutpaw

**Puddlespots** \- dark brown mottled tom. 

**Ratpelt** \- wiry, long-legged brown tabby tom with beady yellow eyes.

Apprentice, Specklepaw

**Rapidfoot** \- small, quick gray-and-white tom.

**Beechtail** \- black molly.

Apprentice, Fernpaw

**Bravefeather -** brown tabby tom. 

**Heavysong** \- thickset, dark tabby tom.

Apprentice, Smokepaw

**Seedshade -** golden-brown tabby molly. 

**Beelight -** brownish-gray tabby molly. 

Apprentices 

**Frogpaw** \- large, sleek-furred black molly with green eyes; trans.

**Pricklepaw -** small tortoiseshell-and-white molly. 

**Troutpaw** \- skinny, dark tortoiseshell molly with brown flecks.

**Specklepaw** \- dappled brown tom.

**Fernpaw** \- muscular, dark ginger molly with yellow eyes.

**Smokepaw** \- light gray tabby tom with long, soft fur and big, soft paws.

**Mothpaw** \- long-furred ginger molly with white muzzle and paws; green eyes. 

Queens 

**Smallheart** \- mottled gray molly with piercing blue eyes; expecting Puddlespots’s kits.

Elders 

**Snailwhisper -** light gray tom with thick, dark stripes and blue eyes. 

**Russetnose** \- dark ginger molly with yellow eyes.

**Willowgaze** \- silver tabby tom with a white belly and tail tip. 

**Shiningeyes** \- tortoiseshell-and-white nonbinary cat with silver eyes. 

**THUNDERCLAN**

Leader 

**Sedgestar** \- brown tabby nonbinary cat with a stub tail. 

Deputy 

**Snailear** \- silver tabby molly with small, floppy ears. 

Medicine Cat 

**Starlingfoot** \- blue-gray tabby tom.

**Thornstep** \- thickset tabby with ragged fur.

**SKYCLAN**

Leader 

**Sneezestar** \- muscular black tom. 

Deputy 

**Mossytooth** \- fluffy black molly with unusually large teeth. 

Medicine Cat 

**Cloudeye** \- white tom with a scar running from the top of his head, over one eye, and down his throat. 

Apprentice, Lyrapaw - siamese molly with yellow eyes. 

**RIVERCLAN**

Leader 

**Dewstar** \- small silver molly with white belly and paws. 

Deputy 

**Petalgaze** \- dilute tortoiseshell molly. 

Medicine Cat 

**Breezedapple** \- gray tabby non-binary cat. 

Apprentice, Rainpaw - large, round blue molly with blue eyes.

**WINDCLAN**

Leader 

**Runningstar** \- small, wiry gray molly. 

Deputy 

**Plumwhisker** \- large, lithe dark blue-gray tabby tom with violet eyes. 

Medicine Cat 

**Honeynose** \- golden molly; trans. 

**CATS OUTSIDE THE CLANS**

**Flash** \- black-and-white molly. 

**Freckle** \- pinkish-gray (with darker flecks) molly.

A few general world building notes:

In this story, LGBT+ and polyamory are accepted and expected parts of Clan life; however medicine cats are still not allowed to have mates. I've marked out the cats that I've decided are trans already, but you are more than welcome to have your own additional trans headcanons as you wish. Troutpaw is also a trans tom, but hasn't come out yet at this point of the story.

Their lifespans are a bit closer to real life than they are in canon; most cats that make it to adulthood live to be 10+ years. A cat is considered a senior warrior around 9-10 years, and retires to the elders' den at around 12. It's not unusual for a cat to live to be 15 or older in this story. Due to the nature of feral cats, many warriors die before reaching senior warrior status. 

This story takes place years in the future from where the books currently are. So yes, SkyClan is here, and yes, they still have funny kittypet names. Why? No real reason, other than that it amuses me. Call it legacy naming, if you must. 


	2. The Hunt

There was a mouse. Mothpaw looked to her mentor, angling her ears towards the mouse. It sat at the base of a tree, nibbling at a seed.

Her mentor nodded, their blue eyes eager.

Still, Mothpaw hesitated. Her paws felt like deadweight. Her ginger bushy tail flicked from side to side, but she didn’t move.

She felt her brother brush his fuzzy face against her flank, urging her on.

Mothpaw took a deep breath. She’s got this. She’s got this. She took a step forward, keeping her haunches low, her white-tipped paws spread all the way out as she pressed them into the ground and inched forward.

The mouse didn’t move.

Mothpaw’s heart quickened. She could do this. She eyed the mouse again. How far away was it? Was she too far away, or…? No, she was fine. She was close enough. The mouse was upwind of her, and her mouth watered as its warm scent hit her nose. Every factor lay in her favor. All she had to do was jump.

She lunged forward, claws outstretched.

Her paws swiped at empty air, and her face collided into the soft pine needles. She rolled onto her side, rubbing her smarting muzzle with her paw. As she blinked, her vision clearing, she made out the dark ginger shape of her sister. The mouse hung limply from her jaws.

"Wait ‘till Pricklepaw hears about this! She won’t believe what an awesome catch I made.” Fernpaw glanced at Mothpaw and dropped the mouse, grinning sheepishly. “It’s okay, Mothpaw. You almost had it that time. You overshot it.”

Mothpaw grunted. She had missed? _Again_?

“That’s good, right?” As Mothpaw struggled to her paws, her fluffy gray brother bounded over. “’Cause the last few times, you didn’t leap far enough. So, you’re learning! Making new mistakes is better than making the same mistake every time. Right, Shortleg?” He glanced over his shoulder at Mothpaw’s mentor.

The small gray cat hunched his shoulders and pins his ears back. “Sure. Mothpaw, I think we’ve done enough for one day. Why don’t we leave Beechtail and Heavysong to finish up the hunting patrol with their apprentices, and we’ll head back to camp?”

“I don’t want to,” Mothpaw protested, her long fur bushing out. “I almost had it that time! I’ll get it next time, I promise.”

“You’ve scuffed yourself up pretty badly,” Shortleg insisted. “You should get those cuts looked at before they become infected. You’re giving Frogpaw quite the experience. She’ll be able to complete her medicine cat training just on you alone!” They purred, laughing at their own joke, but when no one else joined in, they trailed off.

"Come on, Fernpaw, Smokepaw,” Beechtail spoke up for the first time. The black molly had been hanging back with Smokepaw’s mentor, Heavysong. As she spoke, the thickset dark tabby tom stood up, motioning with his tail for the others to follow him.

Fernpaw ran after her mentor, but Smokepaw hesitated. He turned his large blue eyes towards Mothpaw and wrapped his fluffy tail around her. “It’ll be alright, okay?” he mewed. “I promise. You’ll get it eventually.”

"Sure,” Mothpaw muttered. She watched as her littermate bounded after the rest of the hunting patrol. Without a glance at her own mentor, she started shuffling back in the direction of camp. Her nose still stung, and she tried to lick at her scratch with her tongue, but she couldn’t reach. Her paws were starting to ache, now, too. What a wreck of a day this had been. Her tail dragged through the dirt as she hung her head.

She didn’t look up as she heard the uneven lope of her mentor rushing to catch up to her. Normally, she would have had to slow down so he could keep up, but today she was barely shuffling along as is. Shortleg didn’t have to rush to keep up with her.

The small gray cat cleared his throat. “We only want what’s best for you, Mothpaw, I hope you know that. Your father specifically requested that I mentor you, because he thought that I, of all cats, would understand what you’re going through.”

Mothpaw glanced behind her at her mentor’s club foot. It dangled uselessly as they hopped along on their three good legs. When Mothpaw didn’t respond, he continued, “I know that this isn’t easy for you. You know everything you need to know. I know you do, because you can repeat back to me everything I’ve ever told you, word-for-word. It’s your physical skills that need practice. But look at your Clan! I’m a respected senior warrior, and Berrystar has that nasty limp. We can do just as much as any other member of this Clan.”

“But then why can’t I?” growled Mothpaw. “If it was so easy for you to become a warrior with three paws, why can’t I catch a measly mouse? I’ve been an apprentice for over half a moon, and I still haven’t caught anything.”

“You might just have to try a little harder than everyone else, that’s all,” Shortleg mewed, their voice even and low. “Besides, there are plenty of things you are good at. Patrolling the territory, for one. I’ve never seen an apprentice so alert! You were able to hear that RiverClan patrol before anyone else.”

Mothpaw grunted. She didn’t think that her inability to not pay attention to everything going on around her was all that useful. She had _wanted_ to pay attention to a funny story Beechtail had been telling Heavysong about her old mate, Acorntuft. Instead, all she could hear was the heavy footfalls as RiverClan stormed along the border.

They two continued in silence. Mothpaw heard birds flying overhead, making nests in the warm New-Leaf air. At least someone was happy, she thought. She could hear the sounds of her Clanmates settling down to share tongues and relax after a long day of work. Shortleg stopped before the entrance, and Mothpaw reluctantly dragged her own paws to a halt.

When she met their gaze, she bristled to see pity in their blue eyes. “My night vision hasn’t been very good these last few seasons. Still, you are a ShadowClan warrior, and you need to learn how to use your territory at all times, including during the darkest nights,” they mewed. “As you know, Troutpaw, Pricklepaw, and Specklepaw are having their warrior assessments tonight. I want you to go with them. You can help them carry back their freshkill. When you come back, you can tell me everything you’ve learned about night hunting.”

Was this all she was good for? Running errands and helping more important warriors with menial tasks? Mothpaw forced her fur to lay flat. “Okay.”

* * *

Mothpaw trailed at the back of the assessment patrol. At the front of the patrol lead the apprentices, Pricklepaw, Troutpaw, and Specklepaw. Sheets of rain pelted against her face, causing her to squint. Still, Mothpaw could almost see the excitement sparking off of their pelts.

In between her and the other apprentices were the mentors: Meadowstripe, Grasseyes, and her father, Ratpelt. The lanky, darn brown tom caught her eye and nodded.

Mothpaw squinted, shuddering as a particularly cold blast of air knocked even more rain into her face. Her paw didn’t meet the ground where she expected it to, and she stumbled into a puddle. She tried to be thankful to be here, since neither of her other siblings had been allowed to come, but she couldn’t help but think that her time would be better spent in her den, sleeping.

The group came to a stop, and Mothpaw hovered outside of the group of cats, waiting to see what would happen.

As the most senior warrior, Grasseyes addressed the rest of the waiting warriors; his soaked white pelt made him stand out staunchly even in the darkness. “This is our last chance to put off their assessments until tomorrow. This weather doesn’t bode well.” He looked at the sky, his green eyes little more than slits as he peered into the storm.

“Of course, it’s a good idea!” Ratpelt interjected. “Our apprentices are ready to be warriors, are they not?” he looked at the three waiting apprentices, who cried out eagerly. “It would be a shame to make them wait any longer because of a bit of bad weather. We’re ShadowClan! We can handle a bit of rain. Besides, these three are much too big to be crowding up to the apprentices’ den any longer. Don’t you agree, Mothpaw?”

Mothpaw shuffled her paws, feeling awkward as all the mentors and apprentices gazed at her. “It is kind of crowded.”

“There you have it.” Ratpelt met Grasseyes’ gaze evenly. The white tom stared back for a long heartbeat that stretched into eternity before dipping his head.

“We’ll split up. As is our custom, each mentor will track someone else’s apprentice. Ratpelt, you go with my apprentice. I’ll go with Troutpaw, and Meadowstripe will go with Specklepaw. And Mothpaw?”

Mothpaw angled her ears forward, curious to see how she would help. She’d never seen a warrior assessment, after all, and this would be good experience for when she had to do her own.

Grasseyes looked her up and down, and she realized that she had scraps of pine needles and clumps of mud tangled in her long leg and belly fur from when she had tripped. “You’ll stay here and guard whatever prey the others bring back until we can take it back to camp.”

Without thinking, a protest tumbled out of Mothpaw’s mouth. “But Shortleg asked me to watch so I could learn about night hunting. How can I learn if I’m stuck guarding the fresh kill?”

The white tom flattened his ears, but Ratpelt blinked at him soothingly. “Let her come with me, Grasseyes. I’ll take care of her.”

“She better not trip and scare away my prey,” Pricklepaw mumbled.

“Don’t be rude,” mewed Grasseyes, but he tilted his head at Ratpelt, waiting for him to respond.

“I take full responsibility for her,” the wiry brown tom mewed, “But I won’t need to. It’s raining so hard that nothing will be able to hear her, or anyone else. Right?” He directed his last question at Mothpaw, fixing her with a hard stare.

Mothpaw swallowed thickly. “Right.”

Grasseyes dismissed them, and Ratpelt, Pricklepaw, and Mothpaw met several tail-lengths away from the rest. The tortoiseshell-and-white molly bounced up and down where she stood, her yellow eyes glistening with excitement. “I’m ready, Ratpelt,” she boasted, puffing out her chest. Her fur, normally softened by the edges of kit fluff that refused to shed, was slicked back against her tiny, sleek frame.

“I know you are,” Ratpelt mewed evenly. “You’re going to do great. Remember that the prey will be hiding in its dens, and you probably won’t find much. Just show me the best that you can do, and we’ll work things out, eh?” He winked, and Pricklepaw giggled.

At that moment, Mothpaw jumped as thunder cracked overhead, and a flash of lightening lit the clearing. As the clearing lit up, Mothpaw saw her father and Pricklepaw’s glowing yellow eyes locked onto each other. The apprentice practically vibrated with excitement.

“Go get ‘em, kit. And remember everything I showed you.”

“Of course!” Without a moment’s hesitation, Pricklepaw raced off.

Mothpaw watched her black and ginger tail disappear. “I thought Grasseyes was her mentor.”

“He is,” Ratpelt mewed. “But I take it upon myself to make sure that our apprentices are meeting a certain set of standards. It’s just a little extra one-on-one time, to give apprentices that show promise a little extra oomph.” He flicked Mothpaw’s ears with his tail, purring affectionately. “Let’s go. I’d hate to lose our little warrior-to-be!”

The two of them padded after Pricklepaw, making sure to hang far enough back so that they wouldn’t distract her. Mothpaw couldn’t help but think that, with the rain coming down this hard, they could stand right in front of her and yowl in her face, and she wouldn’t notice.

“I heard you’ve been having trouble with your apprentice duties,” Ratpelt mewed.

Mothpaw’s blood ran cold. Had Shortleg told him? What did they say? “N-no! I mean, um, uh—”

“It’s okay, darling Mothpaw,” Ratpelt soothed, and Mothpaw’s heart calmed when she saw affection, not anger, in his gaze. “Sometimes we just need a little extra help, that’s all. How about I give you some of those extra lessons like I gave Prickelpaw, hmm? Would you like that?”

Mothpaw’s tongue felt thick in her mouth. “I would.”

“Then consider it done.” Her father ran his tail down her flank. “Your mother would have been so proud of you, you know. I see so much of her in you.”

Ratpelt’s mate and her mother, Wildstep, had left when she and her littermates were barely three moons old. No one knew where she had disappeared to, but Ratpelt had been convinced that she been sick and wanted to spend her last night in peace, away from her loved ones so as to spare them the pain of seeing her die. Just thinking about her made Mothpaw’s heart ache.

Before she could reply, several cracks of thunder rolled through the air. No, that wasn’t thunder, it was too close—

“Pricklepaw!” Mothpaw yelped. She bounded forward—

Lightning lit up the air—

Pricklepaw, standing proudly with a large bird in her mouth, turning towards Mothpaw with a question on her face—

Mothpaw skidded to a stop. The bright light had blinded her, and she shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut and trying not to tremble. She heard Ratpelt bounding up behind her, a question dying in his throat.

Mothpaw’s vision cleared. She dared to look.

The tree branch covered Pricklepaw’s bottom half. She gaped at them, jaw opening and closing soundlessly as her front legs twitched and flailed.

Oh, StarClan. She was _still_ _alive_.

“Pricklepaw!” Ratpelt gasped. He rushed forward and pressed his face against hers. “You’ll be okay. Mothpaw! Go get help! Get Ambereye!”

Mothpaw stared blankly. How had the tree branch fallen so quickly? She had tried to help—

Or had she only made it worse? If Pricklepaw had been a tail-length to the side, would the branch have killed her painlessly? Or missed her altogether?

“Mothpaw!” Ratpelt growled. “Go!”

Still stunned, Mothpaw turned and ran blindly, hoping against hope that she could get help in time.

She didn’t get far before she tripped and fell. Mud splashed into her face, and she spat out dirt as she struggled to her paws. Pricklepaw’s despairing, wordless moan flashed in her mind’s eye, and she picked herself up and kept going. Every time she stripped, she remembered Pricklepaw, and she remembered Ratpelt’s desperate growl, and she pushed herself forward. Even after her legs ached, and her paws smarted from being ripped open again and again, as she scraped over every root and stone in the forest.

She rushed past the entrance to the camp—Weedwhisker, who was guarding the entrance, asked her a question as she passed, but the molly’s voice was little more than static in her ears—and charged into the medicine den. She tried to speak, but the only sound that came out of her mouth was a wordless whine.

Two amber eyes flashed in the darkness. Despite the panic fighting inside her chest, those eyes stood out to her with startling clearly. She had never been so close to the medicine cat before. _Only one of his eyes is a proper amber,_ she thought, latching onto the thought as her only anchor in a haze of hysteria. _The other is so muddy it’s almost brown. I guess that explains his name._

“Mothpaw? What’s wrong?” The old tom dragged himself to his paws, shaking out his fur.

She tried to speak again, but her tongue refused to cooperate.

Ambereye must have seen Pricklepaw’s tortured expression reflected in her eyes, because his tail bushed out as he faced her. “Is it one of the apprentices? Did someone get hurt during their assessment?”

She nodded, relieved he caught on so quickly.

His gaze darkened. “Grab Frogpaw. I’ll retrace your path. Catch up with me, if you can.” With that, he raced out of the den.

Frogpaw, fast asleep in the apprentices’ den, wasn’t so easy to rouse. The black molly didn’t want to wake up, and she finally did, she didn’t tolerate tongue-tied Mothpaw like Ambereye did. “If you want to make dirt, go by yourself,” she grumbled, covering her face with a paw.

“Mothpaw?” her sister’s sleepy voice came from the On the other side of the den. She blinked at her. “Are you back from the warrior assessment already?”

Mothpaw tried to speak, but her tongue refused to cooperate, and all that came out was a string of gibberish.

Fernpaw frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.” She prodded Frogpaw, first with her paw, and when that didn’t work, she jabbed her with a claw.

“Watch it!” Frogpaw growled, leaping to her paws.

“Something’s wrong. Can’t you see how spooked Mothpaw is? Someone’s in trouble. Did Ambereye send you?”

Fernpaw directed the last question to Mothpaw, who nodded. It wasn’t the whole truth, but if it was the answer that would get Frogpaw out of the den, then so be it.

Frogpaw’s tail bushed out to twice her size. “Seriously? You could have led with that.’ She dashed out of the den.

Fernpaw rubbed her face against her sister’s. “Everything will be okay. Go with Frogpaw. Smokepaw and I will tell Berrystar.”

Mothpaw licked Fernpaw’s ear gratefully before dashing out of the den. Flagging down Frogpaw, who was padding out of the medicine den with a bundle of herbs in her jaws, she raced back outside, back towards Pricklepaw. By some miracle, every paw found its footing, and she didn’t trip once all the way back. The rain was starting to let up, and she could see where the puddles were to skirt around them.

 _Thank you, StarClan_!

As the two of them approached the fallen tree branch, Mothpaw saw Ambereye crouching over Pricklepaw’s body. The dirt underneath the branch had been torn up where Ratpelt had dug her out, and she law a few tail-length’s away. That’s good, right? If Ambereye was taking care of her, that means she’s still alive.

Ambereye barely looked up as they approached. “Frogpaw,” he grunted, motioning her close with a flick of his tail. The black molly set down her herbs and crouched next to him. He murmured something to her, so low that Mothpaw couldn’t hear. She stared, transfixed, at Pricklepaw’s form, still except for the rapid rise and fall of her sides. Her legs were twisted into a grotesque angle that made Mothpaw’s stomach squirm.

Ratpelt sat down beside her and rested his head on top of hers.

“Did I get help in time?” she whispered, her tongue finally free to move.

“Only time will tell.”

The two watched as Ambereye and Frogpaw made poultices, set wounds, and nosed medications down Pricklepaw’s throat. Pricklepaw gasped, and twitched, and stopped breathing.

She stopped _breathing_.

“What’s going on?” Mothpaw demanded. She rose to her paws, tail lashing. “Why aren’t you helping?”

Ambereye shook his head. “We did all we could,” he mewed. “In the end, the best we could do was make sure she was comfortable.”

Beside her, Ratpelt stiffened. “But she was only an apprentice! She had so much life ahead of her!”

Ambereye shared a glance with his apprentice. “Sometimes, StarClan works in mysterious ways. Did you tell anyone else about this, Mothpaw?”

“Um. Fernpaw knew. She said she and Smokepaw would tell Berrystar.”

“Good. We'll need help to carry the body back.” Ambereye rested a paw between Pricklepaw’s ears. “May StarClan light your path.”

 _Oh, StarClan,_ Mothpaw thought, as despair turned her bones icy cold. _What have I done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you for checking out my story! I started writing this on a whim, but I'm really liking how it's turning out. 
> 
> This story is a prequel to another story which I have since deleted, Hold On to Each Other. I felt that there were certain aspects that did not live up to my standards, and frankly, had unpleasant implications -- my handling of mentally ill characters left much to be desired, for one. 
> 
> For those who have read HOTEO, the events and characters in that story are still cannon, though this story trumps whatever is written in HOTEO in respect to any timeline inaccuracies. Interested readers can find it on my ffnet account under the same username and story title.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! c: Expect updates sporadically, but roughly around once a week.


	3. The Favorite

Mothpaw stared numbly as the elders carried Pricklepaw’s still body out of camp. Heavysong rubbed his face against Beechtail’s side as she trailed after the elders, her tail dragging through the dirty. Her old mate Acorntuft watched them go, still stuck in the spot where he had crouched next to Pricklepaw’s body all day. The fading light turned his face haggard and worn.

 _Pricklepaw had been their kit,_ Mothpaw remembered with a stab of pain.

An entire day had passed since Pricklepaw’s failed warrior assessment. Troutpaw and Specklepaw had been given their warrior names, Troutpath and Specklefur. Instead of glowing with the warm grace of newly minted warriors, their bodies sagged as they dragged themselves to the entrance to sit vigil.

Shortleg stopped by Mothpaw on the way to the warriors’ den. “You should go to sleep,” they mewed, voice weary. “If you want, we’ll go on a patrol later. But don’t worry if you aren’t feeling up to it.”

Mothpaw nodded mutely, not tongue-tied for once, but unsure of what to say. She watched as Shortleg limped to the warriors’ den, and as Weedwhisker nudged Acorntuft to his paws and helped the scruffy tom back to his nest. The deputy, Briarstreak, padded out of the leader’s den, motioning to a few of the remaining warriors to follow her. Her milky white eyes stared straight ahead as she led them through the tunnel out of camp on a hunting patrol. One by one, the other warriors trickled away. Frogpaw nudged Ambereye, who stood up and stretched from his own vigil, and the two of them padded back to the medicine den, heads held low.

Soon Mothpaw was almost alone in the clearing. She shuffled her paws and eyed the apprentices’ den. She knew that going to sleep meant being confronted by Pricklepaw’s contorted face as she begged for help that Mothpaw couldn’t offer.

“She was a ShadowClan warrior in all but name.”

Mothpaw twisted around to find her father winding his way towards her. His yellow eyes, normally so bright and inquisitive, now appeared sunken and weary. He sat down and rested his wiry body against hers. “I’ll miss her. I hope the elders pick a good resting spot for her. Near her favorite climbing tree, perhaps.”

“Me, too.” She hadn’t realized that Pricklepaw had a favorite climbing tree. Or that she liked to climb at all. She shuffled her paws. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Her father blinked in surprise.

Mothpaw’s guilt weighed heavy on her shoulders, but instead she mewed, “You two seemed close.”

“We were.” He bristled and dug his claws into the ground. “StarClan shouldn’t have taken her. She was young. This was cruel.”

Mothpaw didn’t know what to say. She pressed against her father, hoping that was enough to comfort him.

The brown tabby tom trembled. He bared his teeth, and for a second Mothpaw was afraid he would attack. “Why did StarClan do this?” He took several deep breaths until his shaking stopped. “It’s tragic, isn’t it? She wasn’t my apprentice but I loved her as if she was. She would have been one of the greatest warriors ShadowClan had ever seen. I suppose I’ll just have to channel that energy into you.” He purred again and tugged Mothpaw close.

Mothpaw giggled and squirmed out of his grip. “Stop that. I’m not a kit anymore.”

“I know.” Ratpelt watched her, something unreadable flickering across his gaze. Was that… wistfulness? “But you’ll always be _my_ kit.” He stood up and stretched. “I will give you special lessons, you know. That wasn’t just talk.”

Mothpaw’s purrs of amusement died in her throat. “R-really? But I’m nothing special. I’m just me.”

“You’re selling yourself short. Under my gentle guiding paws, you’ll be the best warrior this Clan has ever seen. You’ll see. A few extra lessons here and there will do you a world of good.” Ratpelt blinked fondly at her. “You should get some sleep. You’ll need to rest well for the training that your mentor and I will put you through.”

Mothpaw yawned. “I hope StarClan sends you sweet dreams.”

At her words, Ratpelt’s purr stilled. He shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. “Goodnight, Mothpaw.”

Mothpaw dipped her head before ducking into the apprentices’ den. Frogpaw’s nest was empty; she must still be working in the medicine den with Ambereye. Fernpaw and Smokepaw were curled up in their nests, and she tiptoed over to them, sinking into her nest with a sigh of relief. Her paws ached, and her eyelids wouldn’t feel heavier if badgers were weighing them down. She could sleep for a moon.

But before she could get comfortable, the furry heap where her siblings curled up shifted, and she came face-to-face with two pairs of yellow eyes.

“How come Dad always talks to you?” Fernpaw grumbled.

Mothpaw’s ears burned. “He talks to you, too.”

“Not like that,” Fernpaw protested and lashed her tail back and forth. “We heard everything he said to you. ‘Best warrior this Clan has ever seen,’ huh?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Sure, it isn’t. Dad has a favorite, and it’s not me or Smokepaw.” Fernpaw scowled. She unsheathed her claws, and Mothpaw eyed her, but her sister didn’t move.

Smokepaw ran his fluffy gray tail down Fernpaw’s side. “You don’t mean that, Fern?”

“Of course, I do,” Fernpaw spat. “He always compliments you after we come back from training. He always tells you what a special warrior you’re going to be. And now he talks to you about Pricklepaw! You weren’t even that close to her. Not like me.” Fernpaw pinned her ears back. She hung her head, the fight draining out of her. “She was my best friend.” She trailed off and stared at her paws, frowning. 

Smokepaw rubbed his cheek against hers. “She’s still your best friend,” he mewed. “Maybe you’ll dream of her tonight. In StarClan.”

Fernpaw sniffed and rubbed her face with her dark ginger paw. “Yeah. Whatever. I’m going to sleep.” Without a second glance at Mothpaw, she shifted in her nest so her back was to the two of them. Her sides rose and fell with exaggerated movements, but Smokepaw’s worried expression told Mothpaw to let their littermate pretend to sleep.

Mothpaw glanced at Smokepaw hopefully. “You don’t really think Dad likes me more?”

Smokepaw looked away and tucked his soft paws underneath his body. “He does talk to you a lot,” he mumbled.

Mothpaw sighed and covered her head with her paws. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

“I know,” Smokepaw murmured. “But maybe this is how it has to be.”

* * *

“You can do better than that.”

Mothpaw grunted and staggered around to face Ratpelt again. Her sides heaved as she fought to catch her breath, and her claws stung where she had caught them after mistakenly tugging on an overgrown root.

Her father eyed her, not a hair out of place on his perfectly groomed pelt. A beam of moonlight sliced through the thick boughs overhead, turning his face silver and making his eyes glow. “One more time,” he urged.

Shaking her head, Mothpaw collapsed into a sitting position. “I already practiced all day with Shortleg,” she complained between gasps. “I can’t get it.”

“Sure you will,” soothed Ratpelt. He padded over, placing his paw over hers. “I promised I would make you a special warrior, didn’t I? Do you want to break my promise?”

Mothpaw hesitated, then shook her head.

“Good. Now do it again.”

"I already told you. Shortleg tried to teach me this move a thousand times already. I just don’t get it.”

Ratpelt snarled. “That mangepelt couldn’t teach a kit how to play mossball. I’ll teach you, and I’ll keep teaching you until you get it right.”

 _Didn’t you specifically ask for Shortleg to be my mentor?_ thought Mothpaw, dazed. “But my paws hurt.”

Ratpelt bared his teeth. “I don’t care.” He braced his paws and narrowed his beady eyes. “Your suffering will make you stronger, if you embrace it instead of avoiding it. Now try it again. This time don’t worry about aiming. Focus on leaping with your hind legs.”

Mothpaw nodded. She crouched before flinging herself at the brown tabby tom, pushing forward from her hind legs. Her body thudded against his, and a heartbeat later she was on the ground again, side stinging as she gasped for air. Ratpelt watched wordlessly as she struggled to her paws. “Better. Now do it again.”

* * *

Mothpaw winced as she plodded into camp. Her paw pads smarted with each step. Shortleg had seen her hobbling along, and had offered to help her to the medicine den, but she brushed them off; she had dealt with worse pain, and besides, she was bigger than the small gray cat now, and she doubted they could give any support.

Besides, today was a day to celebrate! Mothpaw held her head high as she entered camp, holding her lizard up like it was the juiciest catch the Clan had ever seen. She had finally caught something! Sure, it looked old, and it had been cornered by her mentor Shortleg, but she caught it! She killed it with her own fangs!

Ratpelt was sharing tongues with Briarstreak near the entrance of the camp. She caught his eye as she paraded in, and he nodded knowingly. Your extra lessons are paying off! She thought gleefully, excitement sparking off her fur.

Her littermates were sharing tongues by the apprentices’ den, and their faces brightened when they saw her.

“You caught something!” Smokepaw mewed, tail curling in delight.

Mothpaw dropped it at their feet. “Will you watch it for me? Shortleg told me to take it to the elders, but I have to see Frogpaw first.”

Fernpaw nosed the lizard idly. “Sure.”

“Congratulations, Moth,” Smokepaw purred. Affection flowed out of him as he gazed warmly at Mothpaw.

Nodding her thanks, Mothpaw hobbled over to the medicine den. The scent of herbs, now familiar with her almost daily visits, wafted over her like a familiar friend. She ducked underneath the bush’s branches, expecting to see Frogpaw, but was surprised to come face-to-face with the worn tabby fur of Ambereye.

“Oh, hello, Mothpaw. Can I help you?”

“Is Frogpaw here?” Mothpaw shuffled her paws. at this time of day, Ambereye was normally seeing to the elders or discussing Clan politics with the leader and deputy. She hadn’t expected to find him here.

“I’m afraid not; I sent her out to find some marigold. But I don’t mind helping a young apprentice! What can I do for you?”

“Uh.” Mothpaw hesitated. She’d been putting off talking to Ambereye ever since Pricklepaw. Frogpaw was short-tempered and rude, but at least she didn’t ask too many personal questions. “Never mind. I’ll come back later.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ambereye frowned and sat down. He angled his ears towards the soft, moss-lined nests at his side. “Make yourself comfortable. You can talk to me. I don’t bite, I promise.” He purred in amusement. “I can’t say the same about Frogpaw. She has a masterful connection to StarClan, unlike anything I’ve seen in seasons, but she has yet to master her denside manner.”

Mothpaw hunched her shoulders. “You promise you won’t get mad?”

“Get mad?” Ambereye twitched his whiskers. “Why would I do that?”

Unable to shake the feeling that this was a bad idea, Mothpaw held out her outstretched paw for Ambereye to look at.

He sniffed her paw pads, jerking back in surprise. “How did you get so many scrapes and bruises?”

“I tripped.”

“This much?” Ambereye’s voice rang with incredulousness. “To get this scratched up, you’d have to purposely throw yourself over ever root and rock in the forest.”

“It feels like that, sometimes,” Mothpaw muttered. She looked away, ears burning. “I have it under control, I promise! I’m really good about taking care of my cuts and bruises. Frogpaw gives me marigold to make sure my cuts don’t get infected. Please don’t tell Berrystar! I don’t want her to think I’m not cut out to be a warrior.”

“Why would Berrstar think you shouldn’t be a warrior?”

“Because I always hurt myself, and I can barely hunt,” Mothpaw looked down at her paws, ashamed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ambereye’s whiskers twitch again. “If anything, she would think you’re not fit to be a warrior because you refused to ask for help when you needed it, and you went behind your medicine cat’s back by asking my apprentice for help even though she isn’t qualified to give out herbs without my okay.” His tail twitched. “At least now I know why we kept running out of marigold. But don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”

Mothpaw felt as if a huge weight had slid off she shoulders. “I’m not?”

“Of course not. You’re only an apprentice, after all, and you’re allowed to make mistakes.” Ambereye wrapped his tail around his paws, studying Mothpaw with a warm expression. “Do you know why you trip so much? Or why it’s so hard for you to hunt, or fight?”

Mothpaw hugged herself with her tail and hunched her shoulders. “Sometimes I feel like I can’t control my paws. I know where I want them to go, and I know how to move them, but they refuse to move that way. It’s so stupid! Why can’t they just move the way they’re supposed to?”

Ambereye blinked when she met his gaze but didn’t respond. Mothpaw sighed and continued, “And sometimes I can’t tell how far away things are. Like, when I’m hunting, I can tell that the mouse is ahead of me, but I always mess up how far ahead. Most of the time I miss, and half of the time I end up eating dirt.”

Ambereye grunted. “Interesting. Do you find that your paws ache after a lot of hard work? Besides your scrapes and bruises.”

“Sometimes my joints ache. Especially if I’ve been working all day with Shortleg.”

“And do you ever have trouble focusing, or forgetting things?”

“S-sometimes." She looked down at her paws, her pelt burning with shame. "Shortleg says I’m great at patrols, because I’m so good at listening, but sometimes I can’t stop listening. Sometimes I want to pay attention to what he’s telling me, but I can’t because I can’t stop listening to the birds, or the other cats talking nearby.” 

“I see. And I do remember that you took a long time to first speak as a kit, compared to your littermates.” Ambereye got up and turned around, rummaging through his herb stores. “I wish you’d have come to me earlier, and we could have avoided a lot of trouble.”

Mothpaw eyed him. “Really?”

“Of course. What do you think medicine cats are for, if we’re not here to help?” When Ambereye faced her again, he dropped a pile of leaves with ragged edges at her paws. “Do your joints ache now?”

“S-sort of.”

“Good. This is ragwort. I’m going to chew this into a poultice and put it on your paws, and it should help.”

As he spread the poultice over her paws, she sighed in relief. The cool juices flowed over her skin and soothed her aching joints.

“Feeling better already, I see. This is why you don’t subvert my authority by asking my apprentice for help. Clearly, she forgot about ragwort when treating you,” Ambereye’s gaze glinted with amusement. “What you have sounds like a coordination disorder. It means you have trouble with your motor control, which is why you always trip, or have trouble speaking. Sometimes it can affect your brain and make it hard to judge distances or focus. I’ve never treated it myself, but one of the elders when I was a young apprentice had it. I think they were related to your mother.”

Ambereye trailed off, staring intently at nothing, before remembering himself and blinking warmly at Mothpaw. “I’ll put together a physical training regimen for you to strengthen your body in a controlled way. It won’t solve your problems, but it’ll help you deal with your pain, and from there it will be easier to develop a plan to help with your other issues. Is that okay?”

Mothpaw shuffled her paws. She understood the words Ambereye was saying, but she didn’t understand what he meant. “Isn’t training to be a warrior already physical training?”

Ambereye purred. “Yes. But this is special, extra training. This training isn’t meant to challenge you; it’s meant to teach your body how to move in the way that most cats’ already do. Your body just needs a little extra reminding, that’s all.”

Mothpaw relaxed as she remembered the extra training that Ratpelt had given first to Pricklepaw and now to herself. This was fine, then. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“I want you to see me every morning before you start your training. I’ll let Shortleg know, so they can adjust their schedule.”

“Will I have to stop my apprentice training?” Mothpaw asked, her stomach twisting at the thought.

“I don’t see why. Just be careful. If Shortleg tells you to end your training early because they’re worried that you’re working too hard, you need to listen. I don’t want you to overdo it and hurt yourself.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Mothpaw stood up. She hesitated before rushing forward, pressing her face against Ambereye’s chest.

The older tom jumped, startled, then rested his head on her shoulder. “It’s no problem. Tell Shortleg that I gave you the rest of the day off. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Mothpaw ducked her head. She padded out of the medicine den, tail and head held high. Maybe she wasn’t broken. Maybe everything would be okay, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter out! In our world, Mothpaw's disorder is called dsypraxia, or developmental motor coordination disorder. I knew Moth had dyspraxia long ago, while she was still little more than a concept for my other story, so I'm glad to finally confirm it in-text! 
> 
> Also, denside manner = bedside manner. 
> 
> Peep this sibling drama and father-daughter bonding! And a lowkey religious crisis. (Which was not supposed to be a part of this story at all, but I am incapable of writing without projecting my own religious crises onto at least one character, lmao.)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	4. The Strain

“Come _on_ , you can do better than that!”

Mothpaw strained her outstretched paw, stretching her claws apart as far as she could. She eyed Frogpaw, who was mirroring the exercise for Mothpaw to follow.

Her green eyes flashed in frustration. “You're not doing as well as you were a quarter moon ago. What gives? Did you hurt yourself?”

“No!” Mothpaw snapped. She tried to stretch her claws more but winced as a twinge of pain snapped up her leg. Instinctively, she drew her paw towards her body, scrunching per claws close together.

Frogpaw rolled her eyes and stood up, her black tail whipping side to side. “Keep practicing. I need some air.”

Mothpaw watched her go as she stalked towards the dirtplace, her heart falling. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she do it? She’d been following all of Ambereye’s instructions as closely as she could. She always did exactly what he or Shortleg told her to do.

From her spot outside the medicine den, Mothpaw watched as Briarstreak started to divide patrol duties for the day. Warriors trickled into camp, stretching and waiting to see what their duties would be. Smallheart padded out of the nursery, her large, round belly swinging as she laid down in a sunny spot just outside of her den. Her mate, Puddlespots, purred as he approached, touching his nose to hers.

Shortleg, standing nearby the deputy, caught her eye and motioned for her to come over with a jerk of their head. Mothpaw she shook her head; she wasn’t done with her physical training yet today. With a nod, Shortleg turned their attention back to Briarstreak.

The long-furred dark tabby opened her mouth, scenting out who was present. “Acorntuft. Take a border patrol alongside the SkyClan border. Troutpath, Specklefur, Puddlespots, you go with him. And Ratpelt, I want you to lead a border patrol along the RiverClan border. Take Seedshade, Bravefeather, and Rapidfoot.”

Ratpelt dipped his head. “Certainly. If you would permit it, I’d like to talk to my daughter before I leave.”

Briarstreak twisted her head towards the medicine den, staring blankly at Mothpaw. She shuffled her paws, unsure of how to compose herself now that everyone was staring at her. After a heartbeat that Mothpaw was sure would never end, the deputy nodded. “Very well. But don’t take too long. Last night’s rain will have washed away our scent markers, and we can’t have our friends in RiverClan forgetting where the border is.”

“Of course.” Ratpelt dipped his head again before padding towards Mothpaw. Briarstreak watched him go, then flicked her ear and went back to doling out patrol duties.

At the same time, Ambereye entered camp, carrying a bundle of herbs in his jaws. He lifted his tail in greeting as he joined Mothpaw outside of the medicine den.

Ratpelt got there first. He touched his nose to Mothpaw’s ear, purring heartily. “How’s my favorite apprentice this morning?” he cooed.

Mothpaw winced. “Okay.”

“Are you working on your exercises?”

“S-sort of.”

By this point Ambereye had gotten close enough to hear, and he set his herbs down, looking over Mothpaw’s shoulder into the medicine den. “Where’s Frogpaw? I told her it was her responsibility to help you with all of your exercises.”

“She was. But then she left. She went to the dirtplace and hasn’t come back.”

Ambereye grunted. “She did, did she? I’ll have to talk with her about that.” He sat down, wrapping his tail neatly around his paws, and blinked gently. “How’s your practice going?”

Mothpaw pinned her ears back. “Not good. Frogpaw said I’ve been getting worse for the past quarter moon.”

Beside her, Ratpelt tilted his head, tail sweeping to the side in a curious manner. “How can that be? We’ve been practicing your exercises every day. Surely you should be getting better, not worse.”

Ambereye’s tail twitched. “Last I checked, Shortleg was her mentor, not you.”

Ratpelt’s eyes widened. “Of course, they are! But I’m her father. Surely, I’m allowed to help her with some extra training? I’d hate for her to fall behind just because she’s not as naturally predisposed to apprentice duties as her littermates.”

“When I created this training schedule, I didn’t plan for you to have a secret mentor,” Ambereye grunted. “Let me see your paws.”

Mothpaw held out her paw. Amberye pressed his nose against it, and she winced, drawing it towards herself.

The golden-brown tom nodded. “I thought so. You’ve strained your paws. Somebody worked you too hard,” he glared at Ratpelt, “and now you’re paying the consequences. You,” he angled his ears at Ratpelt, “aren’t allowed to take Mothpaw out on anymore night soirees. And you,” he blinked at Mothpaw, his expression softening, “Have to pause your apprentice training while you let your body recover.”

“What?” Mothpaw’s fur bushed out as she leapt to her paws. She winced as her feet hit the ground, and she pulled up her paw up towards herself. “I can’t stop my training! I’ll fall behind! My littermates will become warriors without me!”

Ratpelt got to his paws, too, lashing his tail. “Come on, now, Ambereye, surely you aren’t serious? It was just a little night training, because her mentor has night blindness. It’s not a crime.”

Ambereye scowled. “I didn’t want this to happen, and if your training had continued as I meant for it to, you wouldn’t have to. But you’re putting too much strain on your body, and if you continue, you’ll injure yourself beyond repair. Better to rest now, and not tempt fate. You’ll be confined to camp for the next half moon, and you’ll be allowed out of camp if, and only if,” he glared at Ratpelt, “You’re helping me or Frogpaw collect herbs. I’ll need to monitor you closely to make sure you don’t hurt yourself again.”

Mothpaw's tail thudded into the dirt. “Okay,” she muttered.

“I know it’s not what you wanted,” Ambereye soothed, “But it’s for the best. If all goes well, you won’t fall far behind, and you’ll still become warriors with your littermates. And I think I better take over your physical training from now on. I had hoped that Frogpaw would enjoy working one-on-one with a special case such as yourself, but clearly I was mistaken.”

Mothpaw nodded, not really listening. Ambereye’s words buzzed meaninglessly against her ears.

Without a word, she left Ratpelt, spitting at Ambereye with the all of the force of TigerClan. She padded towards the apprentices’ den; her stomach grumbled, but she didn’t want to eat. She collapsed into her nest, covering her face with her paws, fighting back tears.

* * *

Green-Leaf was well on its way, but deep inside ShadowClan territory, the pine boughs kept the forest cool. Mothpaw lay sunning herself in the afternoon light, stretched out over a flat rock near the nursery. The rock was usually reserved for the nursery queens, but Smallheart hadn’t shown much interest in it, so she had felt it was safe to risk snatching a little sunbathing for herself. Besides, Ambereye had told her that the heat would be good for her.

She wasn’t sure if her training was paying off or, like Ambereye had suggested, it was the warmer weather, but her joints felt better than they had all moon. She had been doing her training for over a quarter moon now, and hoped she would be able to go back to her training soon. While her world hadn't immediately collapsed in on itself as soon as she stopped training, she still didn't enjoy this forced vacation. Her paws still itched for action every time she saw a warrior come back from patrol. Ambereye had taken to flicking his tail over her eyes if he caught her staring at the entrance to camp for too long.

But for now she lay stretched out on the sunning rock, enjoying the afternoon light. The warm flat expanse of the rock pressed through her thick fur and warmed her skin. She lifted her head as the sound of an approaching patrol, ears pricking forward as her littermates tumbled into camp, both carrying full loads of prey. Beechtail, Heavysong, and Birdsong followed at a more leisurely pace, each carrying their own catches.

As they dropped their catch in the fresh kill pile, Mothpaw waved her tail, motioning them over. Smokepaw’s face brightened when he saw her, and he nudged Fernpaw before padding over, eyes sparkling. “Hi, Moth! We had such a great day today. We had battle training with Birdsong! They showed us this really cool fighting move we could use against bigger cats. Do the move on me, Fern!” He wheeled around to face her, bracing his paws on the ground, flicking his tail back and forth in excitement.

Fernpaw had dragged her paws as she approached, but as Smokepaw called to her, her yellow eyes blazed. The dark ginger molly dropped into a crouch. With a start, Mothpaw realized that she had a small scratch above her eye. Had she gotten it while training?

Before she could ask, Smokepaw yowled and charged at her, but she twisted underneath and kicked at his belly with her hind paws. He grunted and rolled forward, landing on his shoulder and rolling over back onto his paws.

“Isn’t that great?” he asked, shaking the dust out of his fur.

“That’s pretty cool,” Mothpaw admitted. “I wish I could’ve been there.”

“That’s okay! We can teach it to you now!” Smokepaw crouched and waggled his haunches, inviting her to attack.

Mothpaw eyed the medicine den; Ambereye was sitting outside of it, sharing tongues with Acorntuft. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Ambereye would kill me if he saw.”

Smokepaw grunted, the light dying in his eyes. “That’s okay. Maybe next time. Right, Fern?”

"Huh? Oh, yeah, right." Fernpaw had angled her ears towards another group of cats, but turned back to face Smoke as he directed her. Following her gaze, Mothpaw saw that she had been watching Beelight as she relayed a story to Troutpath and some of the other younger warriors. She was an animated storyteller, batting her paws and leaping up to swipe at an imaginary enemy. 

Before she could make a pointed comment, another sound from the gathering Clan grew louder, and she perked her ears forward, noticing the approach of two of the elders. A silver tom with a white belly glared and lashed his tail, his bony shoulders jutting out as he slunk forward. Padding after him was a light gray tom with dark swirling stripes, dark blue eyes wide with apprehension.

Mothpaw kneaded her paws into the stone. Her littermates glanced at her, uncertainty flickering in their eyes. “Snailwhisper. Willowgaze.”

Willowgaze lashed his gray tail. “What are you doing on that rock, kit?”

Ambereye said I should use it. The warmth is good for my bones.”

“It’s good for _my_ bones, too,” the silver tom growled.

“Now, now,” Snailwhisper caught up, panting, and drerw his tail over the silver tom’s side. “Mothpaw’s been a great help around camp. She helped fix that draft that you'd been complaining about for moons, remember? And I can’t even remember the last time I saw Russetnose so alert before Mothpaw started coming around. I daresay she’s been the most helpful apprentice we’ve ever had.”

It was true; Mothpaw had spent most of her free time in the past half moon helping out around camp. After Frogpaw had chased her out of the medicine den, chiding her for being constantly under her paws, she had turned to the elders. She deep cleaned their den, dragging out all of the moss and bracken and refurbishing it with soft, new nests. She cleaned every elder for ticks and fleas, and never complained when they roped her into a story about the days of their youth, even when Shiningeyes lost her place in the story or rambled on a tangent so off-topic that the entire theme of the story changes mid-telling.

Mothpaw had dared to believe that some of the elders were fond of her, asking after her when she was busy helping Ambereye and Frogpaw look for herbs. The other day, old Russetnose had even come over to observe her physical training with the medicine cats, calling encouragement and offering advice. Ambereye had swept her away with a sweet of his tail, claiming she was distracting his charge. Mothpaw didn't complain, but she had appreciated the gesture.

Apparently she hadn't won them all over. Willowgaze scowled as he pushed Snailwhisper away. “I don’t care. My leg is acting up again, and I need to use the sunning rock. _Now_.”

All of the sounds of the camp had started to blur together, and she struggled to pick out Snailwhisper's quiet mew among the static. It wasn't until the elder growled that what he had said sunk in. “Oh, uh, of course.” Mothpaw scrambled off of the rock, dipping her head as she passed. The silver tom grunted as he pushed past her and collapsed onto the smooth rock. Snailwhisper shot her a sympathetic glance as she passed, but didn't protest.

“It’s not even his rock,” Fernpaw muttered as she scrambled after her littermate. “It belongs to the nursery queens.”

Smokepaw hummed in agreement as the three of them relocated outside of the apprentices’ den. “Are you feeling okay, Mothpaw?”

She rolled her shoulders. “I guess.” Her body didn’t ache the way it had been. Mostly, she was just tired. And sore; Ambereye's stretches always took more out of her than she thought they should.

“I can massage you, if you want.”

Mothpaw blinked at her littermate. “Really?”

He purred. “Of course!”

She laid down, and he pressed his paws onto either side of her spine, working his way down her back. She sighed and stretched her forepaws out in front of her, melting into the ground.

Fernpaw, who had sat down a tail-length away, paused in cleaning her paws to smirk at Mothpaw. “Enjoying it?”

Mothpaw grunted, too happy to snap back. When was the last time the three of them had hung out together like this? “Let’s do this more often,” she grunted.

“Do you mean Smokepaw’s massage? Or us hanging out?” Fernpaw’s whiskers twitched in amusement.

“Yes.”

“We should share the highlights of our days!” Smokepaw chirped. “And what we’re looking forward to. My highlight was training with Birdsong. They’re so cool! I hope they train us more in the future. Tomorrow, I’m looking forward to, uh… hmm. Oh, I know! Heavysong said he’s going to train me in night fighting! Isn’t that cool?”

“Sure is,” agreed Mothpaw. “My favorite part of today is right now. I’m looking forward to, uh. I don’t know. Being one day closer to starting my training again.”

Smokepaw purred. “Me, too! What about you, Fernpaw?”

She looked up from her cleaning and shrugged. “I think getting this scratch was kind of cool. Do you think it’ll form a scar? That would look rad.” She touched her eyebrow, rubbing her paw pad over the scratch a few times.

“Probably not,” mewed Mothpaw. “I’ve gotten scratched on my paws bigger than that, and most of them don’t leave a mark.”

"That's too bad." Fernpaw frowned. “Pricklepaw would have liked it. She would have said it made me look cool.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the three of them. Mothpaw bit her tongue, wishing she hadn’t said whatever she had to make Fernpaw bring up Pricklepaw again. The dark ginger molly examined her paws listlessly, her tail tip twitching back and forth.

“Anyways!” Smokepaw chirped, breaking the silence. “Mothpaw, do you know when you get to start your training again?”

“Soon, I hope. Ambereye said I did really well today.” Mothpaw squirmed in anticipation.

“That’s great." Fernpaw got up and stretched. "Listen, I’m going to go hang out with Troutpath. She and Specklefur and Beelight said I could eat with them tonight.” She cast a backwards glance at her littermates. “Is that okay?”

Smokepaw’s paws dug into Mothpaw’s shoulders. “I thought we could eat together tonight. We haven't shared a meal in a few days, and we're already hanging out...”

Fernpaw shrugged. “Sorry. Maybe tomorrow.” She padded towards the others. Beelight paused her story to purr in greeting as she arrived, and Troutpath nudged a half-eaten shrew towards her.

Smokepaw and Mothpaw watched them go. Mothpaw wiggled out from underneath her brother and nuzzled into his thick mane of gray fur. “I’m sorry, Smoke. We can still eat together, if you want.”

He shook his head, pushing her away. “No. I’m not in the mood anymore. Sorry, Moth. I’m going to go on a walk.”

She watched helplessly as her brother padded out of the entrance to camp and into the woods, swallowed by the lengthening shadows extending from the dark pines. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mothpaw. :( Things are just not going her way, huh? 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! <3


	5. The Examination

“Don’t worry, Moth! We’ll tell you all about it when we get back.” Smokepaw’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Yeah.” Fernpaw’s eyes lacked the luster of her brother’s. “Sure.”

Smokepaw ran his tongue over his side, which was already sleek and shining. Mothpaw shoved him, tail whisking back and forth playfully. “You’ve already cleaned yourself a thousand times. Are you trying to outshine StarClan?”

Smokepaw looked up from his cleaning, twitching his whiskers at their other littermate. “I'm certainly outshining Fernpaw.”

Fernpaw's pelt appeared ragged and dull, especially when she sat next to her brother's shiny, sleek fur. Mothpaw motioned at her sister’s scruffy sides, and without a word, Fernpaw tilted her neck, giving Mothpaw access to her fur. She ran her tongue over her littermate’s side, smoothing down her ragged fur as much as she could. After a few short heartbeats, Fernpaw pulled away. “Thanks, I guess. Come on, Smokepaw; we have to go, or we’ll get left behind.”

“Are you okay?” Smokepaw pressed his nose to his sister’s cheek.

Fernpaw shrugged. “I’m not looking forward to Berrystar announcing Pricklepaw. It’ll make it feel… real.”

“But it’s already real,” mewed Mothpaw.

Smokepaw shot a stern look at Mothpaw before nuzzling Fernpaw again. “Don’t think about that,” he urged. “Think about how you’ll be the first one to call out Troutpath and Specklefur’s new names.”

Fernpaw scowled. “Whatever. Come on. Troutpath said she would introduce us to some of the apprentices at the gathering. I don’t want to hold her up.” She locked gazes with Mothpaw for a heartbeat before padding off. Troutpath was hanging behind the rest of the group; as Fernpaw and Smokepaw bounded over she whisked her tail in greeting before padding after the others. Her pelt brushed against Fernpaw’s as they squeezed through the tunnel entrance.

Mothpaw made a point of not looking as the rest of the Clan left for the gathering. She hunched over her half-eaten lizard in the moonlit clearing. This had been her and her littermates’ second full moon as apprentices. None of them had gone to the last gathering; Berrystar had said she was waiting for them to fill in, because she didn’t want anycat to get the wrong impression about ShadowClan’s newest warriors-to-be. Mothpaw couldn’t help but feel that the Clan leader had been making a pointed jab at her. Especially now, when her littermates were about to make their own first impressions without her.

Her lizard turned to mush in her mouth, and she pushed it away. She wasn’t sure she wanted to stay up to hear about the gathering anymore; maybe she should go to sleep.

The sound of approaching paw steps alerted her to her father’s approach. He scowled at the entrance to the camp as he sat down. “I can’t believe they left us here. Especially you, Mothpaw! This should have been your first gathering. You should be there with your littermates.” His frown deepened. “I should have been there when they announced the Pricklepaw’s passing.”

“Why didn’t you ask Briarstreak if you could go?” Mothpaw asked. It had been Berrystar who announced who was going to the gathering tonight, like usual, but Briarstreak had been known to swap around warriors when the leader’s back was turned, if they requested it. She wouldn't make an exception for Mothpaw (she should know; she asked) but there's no reason she wouldn't accommodate a respected warrior like her father. 

Ratpelt scoffed. “I had to stay here with you, silly! I couldn’t leave my kit by herself, unsupervised.”

Mothpaw decided not to point out that, in doing so, he had let his other kits wander off without parental supervision. She didn’t want to spoil the rush of pleasure that tingled at her paws at her father’s mew.

Ratpelt nodded to the front entrance. “Do you want to go on a walk?”

“I can’t. Ambereye said I couldn’t leave camp, remember? That’s why I’m not going to the gathering.”

Ratpelt scowled. “Amerbeye,” he mewed darkly. “Who does he think he is?”

Mothpaw tilted her head, confused. “Um… the medicine cat...?”

“What right does he have to tell me how I should and shouldn’t be involved in my kit’s life?” He pulled Mothpaw close and held her to his chest. “I’m your father. I know what’s best for you. What’s the harm in a little walk? Stretching your legs will do you good.”

“Oh.” Mothpaw hadn’t realized that. Ambereye certainly hadn't told her that. She shifted her weight uncomfortably. “I guess we could go on a walk. A short one.”

Ratpelt purred. “That’s my kit.” He stood up, keeping his tail on her shoulder as he lead her forward.

As they padded towards the entrance, Shortleg, who had been sharing tongues with his littermate Smallheart, called out to them. “Hey there. Where are you going?”

Ratpelt drew his tail around Mothpaw protectively. “I’m taking my kit for a walk. A little father-kit bonding time.”

“But... she’s not allowed to leave camp,” Shortleg mewed, sounding confused. “Even I can’t take her out of camp, and I’m her mentor.”

“I think her kin should know what she can and can’t handle.” Ratpelt retorted, anger simmering in his mew. “Come on, Mothpaw.”

Mothpaw hesitated, seeing the pain and confusion etched on Shortleg’s face. She mouthed, “I’m sorry,” before padding after her father, slipping through camp and into the shadowy depths of the pine trees.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” Ratpelt asked.

“No,” Mothpaw admitted. She hadn’t been wracked with stabbing pains the heartbeat she stepped out of camp. So far, she seemed okay. As they padded away from camp, her heart lightened, and she walked with a lift in her step. The soft night air brushed her fur, pulling all of her stress and worries away. 

Her father watched, amusement flickering in his gaze. “See? A little walk won’t hurt you,” her father soothed. “In fact, it’ll do you a world of good. Don’t you feel cooped up, stuck in camp all of the time?”

“Not all the time. I helped Ambereye gather herbs yesterday morning.”

“Him again,” scoffed Ratpelt. “It’s always Ambereye this, Ambereye that. I don’t trust any cat that takes advice from StarClan.”

“Really?”

“If StarClan really wanted what was best for us, they wouldn’t have let Pricklepaw die,” Ratpelt mewed darkly.

“Oh.” Mothpaw looked down at her paws, concentrating hard to make sure she didn’t trip. She didn’t know what to make of her father’s comment.

"Never mind that," snipped Ratpelt briskly, all of the gravitas evaporating out of his mew like mist in the morning light. "Let's get you back to camp, little star. We can't have you too tired to concentrate in the morning, can we? You need your rest if you're going to become a fierce, mighty warrior."

* * *

“Okay, Mothpaw, try and reach my paw. No—use your other paw. Stretch across your body.” Ambereye rocked back on his haunches and stretched his paw up as high as it could go, eyes glinting in amusement as he watched Mothpaw struggle to reach it.

“No fair,” she puffed, stretching up as high as she could go. “You’re too tall!”

“Keep trying,” he advised, straining his paw away from her as she swung wildly.

Mothpaw grit her teeth. She rocked back onto her haunches and pushed upwards. She grabbed Ambereye’s arm with her paw and pulled it towards her. Her hunting instincts took over, and she shoved it into in her mouth—and promptly spit it out again. “Gross!” She scrubbed at her tongue with her paw, trying to rub the bitter taste of herbs and dust off.

Ambereye purred as he licked his paw clean. “That’s what you get for biting me. Still, that was fun.”

“Yeah.” Mothpaw’s heart raced with adrenaline. She smoothed down her chest fur with her tongue, trying to calm down.

“You’ve improved a lot,” Ambereye mewed, pride glowing in his mew. “You wouldn’t have been able to do that a half moon ago.”

“Does this mean I’m ready to go back to my apprentice training?” Mothpaw asked, leaning forward eagerly.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Ambereye purred, nudging Mothpaw with his paw to rock her back onto her haunches. “But I don’t see why not. I know your mentor has been very eager to resume your training. I’ll let Shortleg and Berrystar know that you can start your training again tomorrow.”

“Yes!” Mothpaw bounced onto her paws. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Thank yourself,” Ambereye mewed. “You were the one who put in all of the hard work. I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but I’m proud of you for putting in the hard work. But,” He tilted his head, examining Mothpaw with a thoughtful expression. “You shouldn’t return to full work right away. I’ll have to monitor you to make sure that you aren’t overworking yourself. And we’ll still need to do your stretches every few days to make sure you don’t lose all of the skills you’ve gained.”

All of the brevity drained from her fur as her tail thudded against the ground. “You mean I’m going to fall even _more_ behind my littermates?”

Ambereye sighed. “I don’t want you to think of it that way. Your littermates are learning at their pace, and you’re learning at yours.”

Mothpaw kicked at the dirt. “I can’t believe I have to do more training than my littermates do, but I’m still learning at half their pace. Why does StarClan do this? Why do I have to struggle?” Mothpaw spat. The fur along her spine rose, and she dug her claws into the ground.

“I know. It doesn’t seem fair, does it?” The golden-brown tom shook his head.

Emboldened by his sympathy, Mothpaw pressed further. “Why does StarClan do unfair things? And why,” she hesitated, remembering her father's conversation on the night of the gathering. She knew he didn't like the medicine cat, but if any cat knew about StarClan, wouldn't it be him? Still, she steeled herself for the worst. “Why did Pricklepaw die?”

Ambereye wrapped his tail closer around his paws, looking up at the sky. “Who knows?” 

Dumbfounded, Mothpaw thudded back onto the ground, all of the fight leeched out of her. “You mean… you don’t?”

Ambereye shook his head. “You'd be surprised. I could fill the entire lake with things I don't know. Besides, StarClan aren’t involved in everything. Sometimes accidents happen that are outside of their control.”

“Oh.” Mothpaw's tail ticked as she considered this. “So StarClan doesn’t make bad things happen to innocent cats?”

Ambereye shook his head. “Probably not. Not unless you were actively hurting other cats. StarClan is here to protect and guide us, not harm us. They only want the best for us.”

“Good. Okay.” Her fur smoothed, and she felt the tension in her shoulders relax. 

"Why?" Ambereye flicked his ear. “Did somebody tell you otherwise?”

Mothpaw started to respond, but cut herself off. Would Ambereye be mad at Ratpelt? What if Ambereye confronted Ratpelt? She didn’t want Ambereye to tell her she couldn’t talk to Ratpelt. And she _definitely_ didn’t want Ratpelt to tell her she couldn’t talk to Ambereye.

She clamped her jaw shut and shook her head. “No one said anything! I was just curious.”

To her relief, Ambereye’s gaze softened. “I understand. You’re young, and Pricklepaw’s death would be hard for any cat to process. I can’t give you answers to all of your questions, but I want you to know that I’m always here to talk if you need anything. My den is always open. You should let your littermates know, too. I’ve seen Fernpaw moping around.”

“Why don’t you make her talk to you?” Mothpaw tilted her head. “You’re the medicine cat. You can do whatever you want.”

Ambereye purred. “I wish it was that easy. Unfortunately, if I force a cat to talk about a traumatic experience before they’re ready, I would only make matters worse. I have to hope that Fernpaw will know what’s best for her, and find me when she needs me.”

“That makes sense.” Mothpaw dipped her head. “Thanks, Ambereye. I’ll see you around.” She darted out of the den, her heart lighter than it had been in days.

* * *

Mothpaw bounded forward, drinking in the warm Green-leaf air. Finally! She was back on apprentice duties! Her paws flicked forward, and her ears strained to catch every sound around her. She wouldn’t miss anything.

Behind her, her mentor purred in amusement. “I’m glad that you’re as excited to get back to work as I am,” they mewed. “I missed having my apprentice around.”

At their side, Ratpelt gazed at her with adoration. “She’s a wonder of an apprentice, isn’t she?”

“Of course. She’ll be a great warrior someday, StarClan willing. I’m sure of it.” The small gray cat dipped their head to the wiry brown tom.

Ratpelt puffed out his chest. "She won't need StarClan to be great. She'll achieve greatness on her own. With some help from her dear old dad, of course."

Mothpaw looked away, ears burning. “I’m just glad to be back, that’s all,” she mumbled.

“So let’s get to work!” Specklefur’s grating mew raked the air as he pushed past her towards the front of the group. His mottled tan tail flicked against her nose as he passed. She glanced at her mentor before padding after the young tom. Technically, Shortleg was the leader of this border patrol, as the most senior warrior present; but if they were happy to let Specklefur take command, she wouldn’t speak up. She didn’t want to ruffle any pelts. Not on her first day back.

The four cats continue down the ThunderClan border. The trees were more leafy than coniferous here, and the air carried the heavy heat of Green-leaf that the dark pines kept at bay. Soon, Mothpaw was puffing to keep pace with the others, her long fur quickly heating up in the warm air.

“Are you okay?” Shortleg asked, limping alongside her. “It’s okay if you need to take a break. I can only imagine your stamina took a hit after being confined to camp for half a moon.”

Mothpaw dug her claws into the ground. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Specklefur snicker. “I’m _fine_ ,” she insisted. “I’m not tired. I’m just… excited. I’m breathing hard to take in all of these scents. It’s been a long time and I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget any of them.” She made an exaggerated sniff, opening up her mouth to catch as many scents as possible. “Like, SkyClan hasn’t passed by since early this morning, probably the dawn patrol. A rabbit ran across the border afterwards. And…” she tilted her head towards the sky. “I think it’s going to rain tonight.”

Shortleg sniffed the air, nodding as they confirmed her report. “Very impressive.”

“My little star,” Ratpelt purred.

Ahead of them, Specklefur gagged. “Just clearing my throat.”

Mothpaw steeled herself and promised herself she would ignore him for the rest of the patrol. Had he always been so high and mighty? Maybe that was why Troutpath would rather spend time with Fernpaw and Beelight than her own littermate. She stifled her own purr of amusement at the thought.

For a while, the patrol continued as normal. The border was quiet, and everything seemed to move slower in the warm Green-leaf air. It was relaxing, slow, calm. It was safe. Mothpaw relaxed. She hadn’t tripped at all! Maybe her work with Ambereye had done the trick, and she had been magically fixed. Wouldn’t that be great, if it were true?

She twitched her ear. Several fox-lengths away, a finch had landed on the ground. It pecked at the ground, hopped a few steps to the side, and pecked again.

Her mentor crouched at her side, eyeing the finch hungrily. “I could use a snack,” they whispered. “Do you want to catch it, Mothpaw? I’ll corner it from the other side and flush it towards you.”

Mothpaw nodded. She crouched down, her haunches quivering in expectation. Shortleg crept along the floor, just out of sight of the finch. Mothpaw marveled at how the light gray cat used the flecks on their fur to their advantage; despite their bright coat, they flitted around the edges of sunny patches, looking for all the world like a sun patch of their own. If she was a finch, she mused, she wouldn’t know what hit her.

Shortleg made eye contact with her, making sure she was ready. They nodded, then leapt at the bird, growling and slashing their paws.

The finch squawked and fled forward, right towards Mothpaw. She gritted her teeth and leapt, claws outstretched.

She reached for the bird—

She grabbed feathers—

She _only_ grabbed feathers.

She spat out the downy fluff and watched in dismay as the flinch winged out of sight, far beyond reach. Shortleg ran their tail down her side. “It’s okay,” they murmured. “It was your first try in a while. You’re out of practice.”

Specklefur snorted. “Useless.”

Beside him, Ratpelt's claws dug into the pine needles underpaw as he fixed them with a fierce glare. “What was that?”

Specklefur met his gaze evenly. “What? I coughed.”

Ratpelt eyed the young brown tom, tail ticking back and forth. “You should talk to Ambereye about that cough of yours. If you don’t watch out, it might get you in trouble.”

Specklefur blinked innocently. “Oh, me? I would never dream of that.”

* * *

Mothpaw stretched, arching her back and curling her tail around her legs; her training sessions with Ambereye always left her feeling surprisingly tired. The morning hunting patrol padded through the entrance to camp, and the smell of fresh prey made her mouth water. She had been afraid last night’s rain would tempt the prey to sleep in this morning. She was glad that hadn’t been the case.

She blinked gratefully at the golden-brown medicine cat. “Do you want me to grab you something from the fresh kill pile?”

“I would love that, thank you.”

Mothpaw padded over to the pile and pawed through the dawn hunting patrol’s finds before selecting a plump rat, Ambereye’s favorite. On the way back to the medicine den, she crashed face-first into a mottled brown pelt. She backed up, blinking at the tom scowling down at her. 

Specklefur's scowl turned into a look of worry (no, not worry, concern) when he recognized her. "Oh. Hi, Mothpaw."

“Specklefur? What’s up?”

The light brown tom shrugged. “I’m seeing Ambereye about that cough. He was right, I don’t want to risk it getting worse.”

She eyed his normally smooth and lustrous pelt. “Are those _scratches_?”

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re limping.”

“I said, it’s nothing, alright?” he snapped. “I wanted to go hunting last night, and I slipped because the rain made everything muddy. Are you happy now?”

Mothpaw blinked. Without saying anything else, she followed him into the medicine den. She put the rat down where Ambereye would find it later and dipped back out before he saw her; she didn’t want to listen to Ambereye chew out the young warrior for being so careless.

As she made her way back to the fresh kill pile, intending to find something for herself, she noticed Ratpelt crawling out of the warriors’ den. As usual, his fur was groomed to a sheen. When he caught Mothpaw’s eye, he nodded hello before padding over to Briarstreak. The deputy lifted her head as he approached, pushing her half-eaten bird towards him for them to share. 

Mothpaw considered him for a heartbeat. _Is it possible that he...?_ She shook her head, dismissing the ridiculous thought before she even realized she was thinking it, and padded to the warriors' den to find her mentor, eager to start the day and make up for lost time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for Mothpaw's training! And yay for Ratpelt :), who is always such a supportive father. :) :) :)


	6. The Change

A crisp Leaf-fall breeze tickled Mothpaw’s fur as she crouched outside the medicine den. She brushed aside a crisp red leaf the same color as her bushy tail as she stretched her claws out as far as they could go and scrunched them back together again.

From inside the medicine den, Ambereye glanced up from his herb stores. “After those, you can be done. Frogjump, do we have more ragwort leaves? We need to start stocking up for Leaf-bare if we want enough to soothe the aching joints of our elders and favorite apprentice.” He glanced at Mothpaw, tail curling in amusement.

Frogjump shook her head. Over the last few moons she had earned her full medicine cat name, though her body hadn't seemed to realize that she had officially become an adult cat. Last moon, Mothpaw had helped to increase the size of the medicine cat den, but still her muscular hind legs and broad shoulders expanded to fill the den. “I’ll make sure to gather some more later today. I’ll check on our catmint plants while I’m out.”

Ambereye nodded. “That sounds great, Frogjump. Thank you.” He stretched, pushing his front legs in front of his body until Mothpaw could hear his joints pop. “I’m not as spry as I used to be. Running all over the territory looking for herbs takes more out of me than I’d like to admit.”

Frogjump’s usual scowl softened as she nudged the golden-brown tabby. “You already do so much, between taking care of Mothpaw and the elders, and offering consul to Berrystar. Why don’t you take a nap before we have to leave to go to the moon pool tonight?”

The golden-brown tom's eyes flashed with annoyance, but his response was drowned out by Berrystar’s raspy yowl. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Pinebranch for a Clan meeting.”

Frogjump touched her nose to Ambereye’s ear. “You rest. I’ll let you know what Berrystar says.”

“Nonsense.” The tom dragged himself to his paws, shaking out his fur. “Don’t treat me like an elder. I’ll stop coming to Clan meetings when I’m dead.”

Mothpaw considered staying next to Frogjump and Ambereye outside the medicine den, but hesitated when she saw Ratpelt beckoning her with his tail. He rubbed his face against hers when she approached. “This is a big day for your littermates.”

“I know.” Mothpaw’s fur prickled. “They couldn’t sleep last night because they were so excited about their assessments.”

She craned her head, looking towards the front of the crowd; Smokepaw and Fernpaw stood next to Berrystar, their eyes glowing with pride. They had both filled out in the past couple of moons, and now they looked more than ready to play the part of warrior – Fernpaw already had a scar running across her nose and a nick in her ear to prove it. Next to her fierce yellow gaze, Smokepaw looked like a fuzzy cloud, or a nursery king. Still, Mothpaw didn’t doubt his skill; he was gone most nights, working on his night hunting skills. His hard work had been paying off -- the other day he had dragged a crow nearly as big as himself back to camp.

(She’d heard that other Clans wrinkled their noses at ShadowClan's prey, but she couldn’t understand why. Sure, crow wasn’t the tastiest, but she preferred it to starving. Finding prey among the tall, dark pines was harder than it seemed.)

Berrystar nodded at the two apprentices. Normally, a leader would conduct this ceremony from on top of the Pinebranch, but Berrystar had difficulty leaping onto it due to her leg injury. Still, with the power and presence that she commanded, she didn't need to stand imposingly tall to control the crowd. "It has come to my attention that we have two apprentices that have passed their warrior assessments.”

The Clan cheered. Mothpaw yowled, and next to her, Ratpelt called out, “Great job!”

Berrystar waited for them to quiet down before continuing. “Heavysong, has your apprentice, Smokepaw, learned the skills of a warrior? Does he understand the importance of the warrior code?”

The thickset tabby tom dipped his head. “He does, Berrystar. He’s learned everything I had to teach him with an attentive ear and an open mind.”

The black-and-white molly nodded. She turned to a sleek black molly. “And you, Beechtail. Has Fernpaw learned the skills of a warrior? Does she understand the importance of the warrior code?”

Beechtail beamed with pride. “She passed her assessment with flying colors. Give her a few seasons, and she’ll be a force the other Clans will hesitate to reckon with.”

“Then I, Berrystar, leader of ShadowClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as a warrior in their turn. Smokepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

The silvery tabby tom lifted his chin. His voice quivered as he mewed, “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Smokepaw, from this moment you will be known as Smokeheart. StarClan honors your warmth and thoughtfulness, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan.”

With trembling paws, Smokeheart stepped forward. Berrystar rested her head on top of his, and he nudged her shoulder. As he stepped back, Fernpaw whipped her tail side to side, eyes glittering in excitement.

Berrystar turned towards her. “Fernpaw. Do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

“I do!” The dark ginger molly bounced on her paws.

Several cats purred in amusement. Fernpaw glared at the crowd, too proud to act embarassed.

Stifling her own purr, Berrystar continued, “Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Fernpaw, from this moment you will be known as Ferntooth. StarClan honors your enthusiasm and skill, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan.”

Ferntooth darted forward and practically smashed her head against Berrystar’s. The leader’s eyes grew wide as she jerked back, before resting her muzzle against Ferntooth’s forehead. As the two pulled apart, Berrystar, swiping her tongue over her muzzle.

Once more, the Clan erupted into cheers. Mothpaw yowled out with the rest of them as she pushed through the crowd, eager to congratulate her littermates face-to-face. "Smokeheart! Ferntooth!”

Smokeheart brightened when he saw her approach, rushing forward and rubbing his cheek against hers, purring so loudly that Mothpaw’s body shook at the force of it.

“Congratulations,” she mewed, her tail curling in pleasure. “You’re a warrior now!”

Smokeheart shuffled his paws. “I wish you could’ve been up there with us.”

Mothpaw forced her fur to remain flat. She knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own, but even still, she had to force down the ball of resentment tumbling in her stomach. “Don’t worry. It’ll be my turn next.”

She peeked over Smokeheart’s shoulder, wondering why Ferntooth hadn’t come over to say hi. Her heart sank when she saw she was engrossed in a conversation with Beelight. The brownish-gray molly purred and licked Ferntooth’s ear. As she watched, Troutpath padded up. The dark tortoiseshell purred as she twined her tail around Beelight and pressed her cheek against Ferntooth’s.

Smokeheart flicked his tail against his littermate’s. “Hey, Ferntooth. Your sister wants to speak to you.”

Ferntooth glanced at Mothpaw. “Oh, hi.”

“Congratulations,” Mothpaw purred. “I’m proud to be your sister. You’ll be an amazing warrior.”

“She already is,” purred Beelight, warmth evident in her gaze as she beamed at the dark ginger molly.

Ferntooh made a face and knocked her head playfully against Beelight’s. “Stop. You’re embarrassing me.”

“C’mon. Troutpath nudged Ferntooth’s shoulder. “I want us to be the first to share a meal with you as a warrior. I wish Pricklepaw could’ve seen this. She would have been so proud of you.”

“Me, too.” Ferntooth looked back at Smokeheart and Mothpaw. “Are you okay if I go?”

“Of course,” Mothpaw mewed, though her stomach twisted.

“Cool,” Ferntooth blinked at Smokeheart. “Congratulations, by the way. We finally did it.” She slipped away, sandwiched between Troutpath and Beelight.

Smokeheart’s large yellow eyes pouring into Mothpaw’s. “Don’t hold it against her,” he pleaded. “Those two are the reason she was able to recover after, well, you know.”

She did. _Pricklepaw._

“I know.” Mothpaw mewed in a low voice. “I should go. Shortleg wanted me on a hunting patrol after I finished my training with Ambereye.”

Smokeheart stepped forward, eyes round and pleading. "Moth..."

Mothpaw forced herself to smile. “Don’t worry about me! Enjoy your special moment. We’ll celebrate later, alright? Tell Ferntooth.”

She flicked her tail under Smokeheart's chin before bounding towards the entrance to camp. Her mentor was sitting by the entrance, talking in hushed tones with their littermate, Smallheart. Tawnykit, the only kitten from her litter to survive, tumbled around nearby, bouncing a mossball back and forth between her paws.

The sandy-colored molly brightened when she saw Mothpaw approaching. “Hi, Mothpaw! Are you here to play with me?” She batted the mossball towards Mothpaw and it bounced across the ground.

Despite her bitter resentment, Mothpaw found herself purring. “I wish I could, Tawnykit. Unfortunately, your mother’s littermate is taking me on patrol.” She caught the ball with her claw and swung it back at the small kit.

“Boo! That's no fun. It's lonely being the only kit. I wish I could be an apprentice with you!” Tawnykit stuck her tongue out. She tried to grab the mossball as it flew towards her, but it skittered out of her grip.

“You’ll be an apprentice before you know it,” Mothpaw mewed, but Tawnykit had already raced off after her mossball, and didn’t respond.

Shortleg watched Tawnykit run off, purring in amusement. “I didn’t realize I was such a fun-destroying, tyrannical aunckle.”

“The absolute worst.” Smallheart purred as she bat at her littermate’s chest with one neat paw. As she turned towards Mothpaw, her soft expression darkened into her customary scowl. “Take care of them.” She rolled to her paws. Her belly, which was still unnaturally large, swung from side to side as she waddled towards the nursery. As she approached, Birdsong lifted their head from where they were sunning themselves to greet the molly, their own belly round with unborn kits. Smallheart murmured something to them, and they rubbed a paw over their patchy-furred belly, smiling.

Shortleg purred as they watched her go. “Are you ready, Mothpaw? We’ve got to get you in tip-top shape if you’re going to join your littermates in the warriors' den!”

Shortleg started to rise to their paws, but hesitated at the sound of approaching pawsteps. Mothpaw turned around, surprised to see Berrystar and Briarstreak padding towards them.

“I was wondering if I could borrow Mothpaw for a heartbeat,” Berrystar rumbled.

“O-of course.” Shortleg dipped their head.

“Why don’t we step outside, Mothpaw?” Berrystar nodded to the entrance to camp.

Mothpaw nodded, too shocked to speak. She padded after them, glancing at Shortleg as she passed. The light gray warrior flicked an ear; they were just as confused as she was. It was rare that both the leader and the deputy talked to an apprentice alone; if they were concerned about her training, they would have talked to Shortleg. Her paws itched, and she prayed to StarClan that she didn’t do anything stupid.

“Sit.” Berrystar took a seat as soon as they were out of earshot of the camp. Briarstreak stood next to the leader, paws neatly aligned and as imposing as ever.

Mothpaw did as instructed, trying not to squirm under the deputy’s intense, but sightless, stare. Both mollies were unnaturally large. Briarstreak was mostly fluff, but Berrystar was pure muscle. Her hind leg was weakened by a battle injury many seasons ago, and her already muscular front half had become even stronger to compensate. Mothpaw dwarfed her mentor and could outreach Ambereye on most exercises, but she felt like a mewling kitten in front of these intimidating mollies.

“I notice you’ve been spending a lot of time with Ambereye lately,” Berrystar mewed.

Briarstreak sniffed. Her spiky brown fur ruffled as she added, “I can smell the must of the medicine den on you.”

Mothpaw dug the white tips of her paws underneath the pine needles. “So? Ambereye asks me to see him every few days so he can make sure I’m staying on top of my physical training. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be strong enough to continue training to be a warrior.” Squirming under the mollies’ fierce glare, she added, “I have a coordination disorder.”

“We know,” Briarstreak snapped.

Berrystar flicked her tail against the molly’s dark brown side. “I understand that,” she mewed, her tone still gruff, but softer than her deputy's. “But you’ve been spending time with the medicine cats even when you don’t have to. The other day you helped expand the medicine den. Surely Shortleg didn’t ask you to do that?”

“Frogjump was too big to fit inside comfortably,” Mothpaw mewed, feeling strangely defensive.

“Is that it?” Berrystar tilted her head to the side. “Or was it because _you_ were thinking of joining the medicine den?”

“What?” Mothpaw leapt to her paws. Her tail bushed out to twice its normal size.

“We’re asking because we’re concerned, Mothpaw,” mewed Briarstreak.

Berrystar nodded. “You’ve spent so much time helping Ambereye gather herbs. You must have most of them memorized by now. And, to be frank, you are not,” she cleared her throat, “naturally predisposed to fighting. It makes sense that you might be drawn towards a path of healing.”

“No, it doesn’t!” Mothpaw yelped. “You’re not ‘naturally predisposed’ to fighting, either! Both of you!”

“I didn’t become a warrior late,” sniffed Berrystar.

“You weren’t injured until after you became a warrior,” protested Mothpaw. "That’s not a fair comparison."

"Well, I was blind from birth," Briarstreak huffed. "And I still became a warrior on time. I stayed out late every night, honing my skills. By the time I was halfway through my training, I was better than all of the apprentices and most of the warriors at night fighting. Of course, it was just the same as day fighting for me. So I suppose you could say that I was better at fighting, period."

Mothpaw flattened her ears. “I _have_ been doing more work than the other apprentices. I do my regular apprentice training _and_ my training with Ambereye. I have to work twice as hard to get any warrior to take me seriously. Even the elders don’t listen to me half the time, and I spend more time with them than any apprentice. If you don't believe me, ask them.”

Briarstreak snorted. “The elders don’t listen to anyone.”

She glared at the two mollies. “Believe me, if I didn’t think being a warrior was worth all of the hard work, you would know.” 

Berrystar glanced at her deputy. The dark brown molly grunted, and the two seemed to come to an agreement. “Alright. You said it yourself. We both have our own disabilities, and we got over it fine. I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal out of it.”

Mothpaw wanted to yowl. Did no one listen to her?! “You asked me first!”

“And all you had to do was answer the question." Berrystar rose to her paws. “You know, I could punish you for talking back to both your leader and your deputy.”

Mothpaw forced herself to meet her leader’s gaze. The molly's steely gaze bore into her and through her. She looked away, ashamed. But she didn't back down.

The black-and-white molly grunted, then turned away. “Have it your way. Let’s go, Briarstreak.”

The blind deputy stared at Mothpaw for a heartbeat that never seemed to end before following her leader back into camp. After she left, Mothpaw sighed, feeling a tension release from her shoulders that she hadn't realized she was carrying. A few heartbeats later Shortleg padded out of the entrance. Ratpelt burst out after them, practically knocking Mothpaw over.

He wrapped his entire body around her and nuzzled her ear. “Are you okay, sweet kit?”

“I’m _fine_.” Mothpaw grumbled, ears burning. She wiggled out of her father’s grip. “They just wanted to ask how my training was coming along.”

“Really? Why didn’t they ask me, then?” Shortleg asked, tilting their head in confusion.

Mothpaw shrugged.

Ratpelt growled and lashed his tail. “Well, if anyone hurts you, just tell me. I don’t care if they’re our own leader and deputy, it somecat hurts you, they will pay.”

Mothpaw remembered the bruises and scratches Specklefur had refused to explain. She swallowed thickly. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw both your leader and deputy try to force you into being a medicine cat, and you're like, what are we, ThunderClan? /burn
> 
> I've been looking forward to reaching this part of the story! This chapter and the following have been my favorite to write so far. As a fun fact, Ferntooth went through several names before I found one I wanted to stick to. Some of the names I considered for her were: Fernface, Fernfur, Fernspark, Fernsnap, and Fernfang. Smokeheart was boringly easy in comparison; he was always going to be Smokeheart, because he's baby.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	7. The Meeting

Smokeheart held his large fuzzy paw out as Mothpaw passed through the camp entrance, asking without words where she was going. She shook her head and pressed by him. “I’m going for a walk,” she murmured. “I’ll be back soon.”

Ferntooth flicked her tail against her brother's side, and he settled back, allowing her to pass.

The night air was cool and dewy as Mothpaw loped through the dark shadowy pines. Beams of moonlight flickered over the carpet of pine needles. Mothpaw wondered briefly if her white muzzle and paws looked like flickers of moonlight to any watching animals.

She had entertained the thought of practicing her night hunting skills, but she couldn’t filter out the sounds of the nightlife around her enough to concentrate on her prey. She could hear the owls, and the bugs, and the wind rustling the branches, and the soft padding of her paws on the needles. She kept moving.

The lake. The sky was clear tonight, and the half moon glowed overhead, sparkling on the lake below. Mothpaw skid to a halt, and a spray of sand flew into the water. As the sand hit the lake, the surface broke into a thousand tiny stars. Mothpaw dug her paws into the sand. Was StarClan watching? What did they think about her not completing her training on time? Had they planned it that way? Or was that just another unhappy accident?

Mothpaw angled her ears towards the RiverClan border. She heard voices. Was it a moonhigh patrol? But why patrol at night? ShadowClan sent out night patrols a few times a moon, sure, but they were the Clan that had mastered the art of living in the dark. RiverClan hunted fish. They didn’t need subtly.

Mothpaw crept forward, ears angled towards the sound. The closer she got, the less certain she was that the voices were coming from patrol. If anything, it reminded her of afternoons after work was finished, when the Clan gathered to share tongues and celebrate the successful end of another day. But even that was much more subdued that this raucous cheering.

_Is that… a party?_

“Hey, you!”

Mothpaw’s tail bushed out as she jumped straight into the air. She whirled around, looking for the intruder.

On the other side of the RiverClan border, a round cat waved their tail in greeting. Mothpaw padded forward, muscles tense in case she had to attack. But the other cat was sitting with their hind legs kicked out to the side, watching with twinkling eyes. “Hi. Yes, I’m talking to you. What are you doing out and about on your own?”

Mothpaw stopped when she reached the border. “Um, hi.” She was close enough to see the other cat clearly, now; they had the round, soft edges and sleek fur of a RiverClan cat. Their dark dappled fur looked almost black in the pale moonlight, though she thought it might be brown in the daytime. “I’m just out on a walk. Why? Is that against the warrior code?”

“No need to be testy,” the other cat laughed. “You’re more than welcome to use your territory however you wish. I simply saw a cat by herself, admiring the lake, and I thought, ‘this is a cat who could use some company!’”

Mothpaw tilted her head. “What?”

“If you’re lonely, my friends and I would be happy to share the lake with you.” The RiverClan cat waved their tail, and Mothpaw followed their pointing tail to the twoleg halfbridge that jutted over the water.

Several cats were sitting and lying around, talking to each other or sharing tongues. As she watched, a cat jumped off the end of the bridge and into the water. The cats cheered, and one yelled out, “Boring! No splash or finesse. Four out of ten.”

“ _What_?”

“You have quite a large vocabulary, huh?” The stronger purred in amusement. “Come say hi. It’s not breaking the rules as long as you stay within a tail-length of the lake, and the twoleg halfbridge isn’t anyone’s territory. I mean, technically it’s RiverClan’s, but no one ever uses it, so it’s fine. If you don’t like us, you can leave. I’m Dapplecall, by the way, and I’m neither a tom nor a molly.”

She allowed herself be swept to her paws, though she stayed on her side of the border as she padded after Dapplecall towards the lake. “Uh. I'm Mothpaw. I’m a molly. Though I guess you could’ve known, by looking.” 

“It’s always good to get confirmation. Nice to meetcha, Mothpaw.” Dapplecall tilted their head. “Though I would have guessed you were a warrior. You’re certainly big enough.” When Mothpaw stared blankly at them, they flicked their ear. “Okay, so your size is a touchy topic. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, it’s not that.” Mothpaw murmured. Despite her better judgement, she found herself drawn by the RiverClan cat’s frankness and informality. “My littermates just had their warrior ceremony earlier today.”

To her surprise, Dapplecall’s gaze softened, and they ran their tail over Mothpaw’s side. “I’m sorry. That’s always hard. But don’t worry, FunClan always keeps things light. We don’t discuss our tragic backstories. Unless it’s Sharing Night, of course, which, luckily for you, it’s not.” Purring, they bounded forward and onto the halfbridge.

FunClan? What in StarClan were they talking about? Mothpaw’s fur prickled as she followed Dapplecall down to the edge of the lake and over onto the twoleg bridge. The wood was sun-warm and dry underfoot. She pawed it uneasily, unused to its hardness after moons living on ShadowClan’s soft pine needles.

“Hi!” Dapplecall yelled, waving their tail in greeting. 

As one, everycat turned to stare. A wiry, stone-gray molly looked Mothpaw up and down. Mothpaw squirmed under her steely gaze. “Who’s this?”

“Everycat, meet Mothpaw!” Dapplecall rocked back onto their haunches and waved for her to step forward with their paw. “She was out looking for company, so I said she could hang out with us tonight.”

Except she hadn’t said that at all. Mothpaw glared at the dappled brown cat, who winked.

The cat who had jumped into the water dragged themselves onto the bridge, shaking their fur and spraying water everywhere. Mothpaw winced and leaned away from the spray. The wet cat, her black-and-white fur spiked into clumps, finally noticed Mothpaw and stared. “Hullo,” she said. “My name’s Flash. Are you a Clan cat?”

“Uh, yes?” Mothpaw flicked her tail. “I’m from ShadowClan.” Flash? What an unusual name. Mothpaw sniffed, hoping she could sniff out where Flash was from, all she got was a mouthful of lake scent.

The molly laughed. “Mothpaw, right? You Clan cats have the weirdest names. Moths don’t have paws!”

So, definitely not a Clan cat. Mothpaw glanced at Dapplecall. “Thanks for inviting me, but I need to go now.”

“Aw, don’t be a sourpuss.” Dapplecall purred and shoved her forward with their body into the throng of cats. “You haven’t even met everycat yet!”

The wiry gray molly dipped her head towards Mothpaw. “I’m Shortstone of WindClan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Heya. I’m Martysplash!” The cat sitting next to her spoke up. She was also a gray molly, but her round edges and soft, questioning eyes made it clear that she was of no relation to Shortleaf. “Don’t let the name fool ya, I’m all SkyClan.” She puffed her chest out, eyes sparkling.

“Don’t be daft,” drawled the molly sprawled out at Martysplash’s paws. She pawed at the gray molly’s chest lazily. “I’m Freckle,” she told Mothpaw. Her pinkish spots reminded Mothpaw of small speckles – or freckles. “Marty’s my cousin. Distantly, you know, but still. And I’m _all_ rogue.”

“Shush.” Without looking, Martysplash pressed on Freckle’s muzzle with a large paw, pushing her face down into the ground. Freckle growled in protest, but Martysplash spoke over her, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Don’t mind her.”

“Sure,” Mothpaw mewed. She glanced at Dapplecall, but the round cat was still blocking her exit. Multiple Clan cats gathering, not under the truce of the full moon? With rogues, of all cats? What was this? Had this really been happening at the edge of ShadowClan territory without anycat noticing?

“Have you been an apprentice long?” Shortstone asked, drawing Mothpaw out of her thoughts. “I don’t think I’ve seen you at a gathering before.”

“Uh,” Mothpaw shuffled her paws. She sat down, eyeing the other cats before speaking. “I’ve never been to a gathering before, actually.”

“What?” Several of the cats stiffened in alarm, and a few jumped to their paws.

A yellow tom with dark stripes spoke up, nose twitching. “Why in StarClan would you be forbidden from going to gatherings?”

Mothpaw bristled. “I’m not forbidden from doing anything! It just hasn’t happened yet. Berrystar promised I’d be able to go to the next one.”

“And how long has she been saying that, hun?” Dapplecall asked, their mew soft.

“A while.” Mothpaw glared at Dapplecall, daring them to contradict her. “But she’ll really allow me to come next time, I swear!”

“Of course,” Dapplecall ran her tail over Mothpaw’s back. “I’m sure.”

Mothpaw growled. “Don’t placate me,” 

They pulled their tail back and tucked it around their paws. Dipping their head, they mewed, “I’m sorry. I won’t then. Do you want to talk abut? How does it make you feel, not getting picked to go to gatherings?”

Mothpaw scowled, and opened her mouth to retort, but no sound came out. She found herself staring at the round cat, slack-jawed and pensive.

“What is it?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I just… don’t know the last time somecat asked me how I felt. Not counting my medicine cat, but he doesn't count because he's, you know. My medicine cat."

Several cats made sympathetic noises. _Okay, that’s it._ Fur bristling, Mothpaw got to her paws. “This has been great. Thanks for meeting all of you. Er, most of you,” she said, noticing two cats cuddling in the background who had been quiet this whole time. “I need to go now.”

When she turned around, she came face-to-face with Flash. “What’ll you do when you go home?” The black-and-white molly looked up from their grooming to fix Mothpaw with a gentle stare.

Mothpaw flicked her ear. “Go back to sleep, probably.”

Flash’s gaze softened. “Wouldn’t it be more fun to hang out here? You don’t have to talk about what’s bothering you. But I can see you’re bothered by _something_. Wouldn’t you rather sit with some sympathetic company for a few hours?”

Mothpaw glanced at Flash, and at the rest of the gathered cats. “Alright, fine.” She sat down next to Shortstone; the small molly seemed the least weird out of all of the cats here, and she figured if she had to deal with somecat’s presence, it would be hers.

The cats let out a cheer. Dapplecall rose to their paws, tail waving in excitement. “Alright! Now that we have that settled, who wants to judge my jump?”

“I’ll do it.” Flash leapt onto the post next to the edge of the twoleg bridge. “Ready… set… go!”

Dapplecall bounded over the bridge. The dry wood rattled as they passed, and they leapt with a yowl into the water below. Mothpaw heard a resounding _smack._

“Oof,” Flash winced. “Eight and a half. That extra half is because I feel bad for how much that’ll hurt in the morning.”

Mothpaw realized she had leaned into Shortstone’s side as Dapplecall had thundered past. She twitched away, licking at the white flash on her chest nervously.

The stone-gray molly nudged her. “Hey. I’m glad you decided to stay. I haven’t had a good conversation with a ShadowClan cat in ages.”

Mothpaw raised her head, glad to see that Shortstone didn’t seem to be mad that she had pressed into her. “That’s a good point. Why aren’t there any ShadowClan cats here?” Mothpaw glanced around. “There’s cats from every other Clan.”

“It’s nothing personal,” Martysplash responded from Shortstone’s other side, leaning forward so she can talk to Mothpaw easier. “There’s no criteria to be a member of FunClan. If you see a cat that seems like they would be a good fit, you invite them. But, no offense, ShadowClan walks around like they have sticks up their butts half the time. Half of them have one paw in the elders’ den, and we’re the young and cool crowd, if you haven’t noticed.”

Looking around, she realized that most of these cats couldn’t have been much older than herself. The oldest cat seemed to be one of the cats who had kept quite during her introduction, a white molly with silver stripes. Even though she was reclining comfortably, Mothpaw could see well-defined muscles rippling under her pelt that only came with age. The rest of them still had the fervor and energy that came with youth.

Despite herself, Mothpaw stifled a purr. “It does feel like we have more senior warriors bickering for special treatment every day,” she conceded.

Dapplecall stumbled back onto the halfbridge. They had the decency to shake themselves out before they reached everycat else, so Mothpaw was saved from cowering from their spray. They looked at Flash, wiggled their haunches, and launched themselves over the halfbridge and into the water again.

“Typical RiverClan,” purred Martysplash. “Can’t get them to stay out of the water, even if you tried.”

Shortstone flicked her tail against Mothpaw and blinked affectionately at her. “These meetings might seem weird at first, but you come to enjoy them,” she mewed. “Even the more eccentric parts.”

“Cool.” Mothpaw hesitated before asking, “Um, What are ‘hours’?”

The stone-gray molly laughed. “I have absolutely no idea.”

* * *

“Can you go down the list and say names?” Freckle nudged Mothpaw’s side, tail flicking back and forth eagerly. “Try it! I want to see.”

Mothpaw nodded at the pinkish speckled molly. “Well, you’re Freckle, and you’re… Shortstone, Martysplash, Dapplecall, Flash…” She blinked as her gaze passed over the black-and-white molly; her spots looked remarkably like Berrystar’s but between her smaller build and the way her fur spiked up between her ears, they couldn’t be more different cats. At the sound of her name, Flash puffed out her chest, and Mothpaw stifled a purr of amusement. She may look different, but that self-centered attitude was just like her leader.

Moving down the list, she angled her ears at the yellow tom. “You’re Pebblestripe,” the two cats who had been reclining next to each other and hadn’t spoken when she had first arrived, “Creekfur and Silverleaf.” Creekfur, the white molly with silver stripes, dipped her head in recognition, and next to her the pretty silver tabby grinned.

“Great!” Freckle bounced on her paws. “Now say which Clan everycat is in.”

“Okay, that’s enough for now.” Shortstone pushed in between Freckle and Mothpaw. “It’ll be dawn soon. It’s time for us to head out.”

Mothpaw nodded. She glanced around the small group of cats. “Um, thanks for inviting me. You didn’t have to, but you did it anyways. I appreciate that.”

“Well, how else are you going to meet cats, if your leader won’t let you come to gatherings?” Pebblestripe muttered.

Creekfur flicked her tail over the yellow tom’s head. “You’re always welcome to come again,” she mewed. “I can’t come to FunClan gatherings very often these days. It would be nice to know somecat will take my place when I’m gone.”

“I don’t know,” Mothpaw hesitated. “I mean, is this allowed? Being friends with rogues?”

“The warrior code says you can have friends in other Clans,” Dapplecall mewed. They leaned on Flash, twining their tails together. “In fact, by explicitly mentioning that it’s allowed, they’re basically encouraging it. ‘Cause like, we can have friends in our own Clan, right? And that’s not mentioned in the code at all. I don’t see why rogues would be any different. It’s not like I’m going to be fighting this one in battle anytime soon.” Dapplecall rubbed their face against Flash’s cheek. The black-and-white molly rolled her eyes as she licked the bridge of Dapplecall’s nose.

Creekfur’s expression hardened as she faced Mothpaw. “I’m more concerned that your leader implicitly forbade you from making friends from other Clans, by not allowing you to come to gatherings.”

“I wasn’t _forbidden_ —never mind.” Mothpaw sighed. “I’m going to go now.”

“Will you come next time? We meet every halfmoon!” Dapplecall called after her.

Mothpaw didn’t pause as she called over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Alright! See you then!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New cats new cats new cats! I'm so excited to introduce FunClan!! They're so good! They have a silly name because they're a silly group of pals, and I love them. :')


	8. The Proposal

Mothpaw’s pelt stung where she had skid across the training grounds as she trailed after Shortleg into camp. She shook her pelt out as they walked, and Shortleg batted away a cloud of dust rising off of her pelt with their paw. “Careful, or you’ll give poor old Shiningeyes a coughing fit.”

Mothpaw rolled her eyes. “They’re faking it half the time. Russetnose told me so yesterday, when I was cleaning out her bedding.”

“Maybe so. Is that a change you're willing to take?” Shortleg grinned and bumped their body against hers in a friendly manner. “You did a good job today. I know you struggled, but you almost got it by the end. Keep trying and you’ll get there soon.”

Mothpaw’s ears burned at her mentor’s praise. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a shred of resentment smoldering within her. _My littermates didn’t struggle so much to learn fighting! Smokeheart_ hates _fighting, and even he took only a day before he could show off the twist and belly rake move to me!_

As if guessing her thoughts, her mentor’s expression softened. They pressed their nose to her forehead. “Try not to compare yourself to other cats.”

“That’s a hard ask, considering we _live_ with other cats,” Mothpaw grumbled.

Shortleg purred. “My, what an astute observation. Maybe you should be the mentor and I should be your apprentice?” When Mothpaw didn’t laugh, they cleared their throat and continued, “Do you have to see Ambereye tomorrow? We’ll try some more battle practice afterwards. Maybe the extra stretches will loosen up your muscles and give you the edge you need to nail those moves.”

They nodded, dismissing her, before limping over to their littermate, Smallheart, who was sharing tongues with her mate, Puddlespots, and their friend, Bravefeather. The brown tabby tom waved his tail in greeting as Shortleg approached and nudged a rabbit towards them. “Hey! We were saving this for you. A little treat after all of your hard work today.”

“My favorite! Yum.” The gray-flecked cat licked their lips before digging into their meal.

Mothpaw looked around camp, brightening when she saw her brother eating a frog. “Smokeheart!” She bounded towards him, purring as she approached.

The silvery tom grinned when he saw her. “Mothpaw! Come share this frog with me. Ferntooth just left to use the dirtplace, but she’ll be back soon.”

Mothpaw settled down next to her brother, gladly taking a bite of the frog. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she had her first bite, and then she could hardly stop herself from wolfing the rest of it down.

Smokeheart purred and pushed it towards her. “Go on, take it. You’ve been training hard and need to eat well to keep strong.”

“Thanks,” Mothpaw muttered. She devoured the rest of the frog in a few quick bites.

As she swiped her tongue around her muzzle, cleaning up any last remnants of frog, her sister came back, waving her tail in greeting. “Hi, Mothpaw. How was training?”

“Great!” Mothpaw forced her mew to stay bright. “I mean, I struggled with the twist and belly rake, but Shortleg told me I’m almost there. I’m sure I’ll get it soon. What about you?”

“That’s great. My day was nothing special, _yet_.” Ferntooth angled her ears towards Smokeheart. “This one is too modest to say so, but I watched him leap several times his height to catch a thrush earlier today.”

“Really? That’s awesome!” Mothpaw purred and rubbed her cheek against her brother’s soft fur. “That’s terrific. That’s just neat.”

Smokeheart tilted his head, his pale-yellow eyes growing wide with concern. “Are you okay, Moth? You just repeated yourself three times in a row.”

“I’m fine!” Mothpaw insisted. “Just struggling to hear myself over everycat. That’s all.” She shook her head, as if she could knock the other noises around camp out of her ears like water. When she had been training with Shortleg, she had felt razor focused, like nothing else existed except for the two of them. They had had to drag her away from the training grounds before she hurt herself. Ambereye insisted this all-or-nothing focus was normal for cats with her condition, but stars, it was annoying.

She looked up and noticed her littermates looking at her expectantly, like they were waiting for her to respond. “Sorry?”

Ferntooth sighed. “Smokeheart asked if you wanted to go somewhere quieter to talk. Inside the apprentices’ den, maybe?” She swept her dark ginger tail towards the den.

Mothpaw shook her head. “No, thanks. I don’t like going in there unless I have to. It’s… it’s weird, being in there without you guys. And I think going in there with you now, knowing it’s only temporary, would make it worse.”

Smokeheart made a sympathetic noise and pressed his face underneath Mothpaw’s chin. “Aww, Moth. What about the woods? We can go for a walk.”

“I can’t do that,” Ferntooth mewed. “Sorry. Beelight said she wanted to talk to me and Troutpath. I said I would see her after I was done sharing tongues with you guys. But then if I leave with you on a walk, it becomes a whole thing… And I don’t want to mess up my fur, you know.” She licked her chest, and Mothpaw realized that her pelt was unusually neat and shiny. “Don’t tell anycat, but I think tonight Beelight’s going to pop the question!” her tail curled, and her eyes sparkled.

Mothpaw blinked, unsure what to say.

“Wow, that’s great, Fern!” Smokeheart mewed. “I’m so happy for you three. Considering the special occasion, I guess it would be rude to keep you waiting any longer.” He angled his ears behind Fern, where Beelight was talking in hushed tones with her sister, Seedshade. When she noticed that they were staring, she grinned, and her sister broke into laughter. “This is great news. Right, Moth?”

Mothpaw didn’t respond , too busy staring at Beelight and Seedshade, until Smokeheart nudged her with his paw. “Oh! Yeah. Congratulations. Tell us about it later?”

“Of course!” Ferntooth Licked her chest, smoothing down a stray tuft of fur. When she looked up, her eyes glistened. “I’m so excited,” she whispered. “This is going to change _everything_.”

Mothpaw’s heart sank as she watched her sister bound over to Beelight and rub her face against the gay-brown molly's with obvious delight. When she forced herself to look away, she found her brother watching their sister. His round, soft body was tense, and his large, bright eyes were steely and hard. When he finally blinked, breaking his concentration, he fixed his gaze on Mothpaw; she shivered at how serious he looked. “Come on, let’s go on a walk. There’s something I have to tell you.”

* * *

“Is this about Fern?” Mothpaw mewed, padding after her brother as they headed deep into ShadowClan territory. They were headed towards the lake, and Mothpaw shivered as a stray lake breeze blew through the woods and cut through her thick fur. “We should be happy for her, right? Because she’s our sister?” She dragged her paws, falling behind her brother, who was striding forward with purpose, his tail carried high. The setting sun cut through the trees, and she could see its glimmering reflection on the lake ahead. Despite the warm, golden glow, she shuddered. “Am I a bad cat for being upset?”

Smokeheart stopped, his tail thudding onto the ground. “No. Or if you are, then I’m just as bad.” He turned around. The wind blew again, and he pressed himself close to Mothpaw. He rested his paw on hers, still steely-eyed and serious. “I’m happy for her, I truly am. As much as I can be. But I’m also frustrated. I told her I had important news to share, right before you showed up, and that I wanted you to be there to hear it. and she blew us off. I had wanted to tell all three of you together, but it looks like I might not have that chance.” He sighed. “Maybe I should be more understanding. This is a special night for her, after all.”

“What are you talking about?” Mothpaw’s fur itched with apprehension.

Smokeheart took a deep breath. “I’m in love.” He trembled as he spoke, barely louder than a whisper. “With a tom in another Clan.”

Mothpaw’s head whirled. Were her littermates really the same age as her? How were they living such different lives? She'd never even thought about romance. “Alright,” she mewed slowly, struggling to gather her thoughts. “For how long?”

“A while, now. I met him at my first gathering. He was already a warrior; he had been for a few seasons. We got to talking, and found out that we had a lot of similar views. Like, _a lot_ , a lot. And, you know, one thing led to another and… we fell in love." The tension in Smokeheart’s body melted as he spoke of the other tom, and his expression turned soft and dreamy. "You should meet him, Moth! You’d like him. He’s thoughtful and kind, and he has a good heart. He’s prickly on the outside, but soft on the inside. Kind of like you.” 

Mothpaw swallowed thickly. “Wow, okay. This is a lot to take in. Partly because it was already a lot, with Ferntooth, and partly because cross-Clan relationships aren’t allowed. But I love you, I always will; you know that. And I’ll always be there for you, no matter what happens.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He pressed his nose against her cheek. “Because we’re going to run away, and I want you to come with us.”

The ground fell away beneath Mothpaw’s feet. Her blood ran cold, and the world spun around her. What was he talking about? Surely she misheard him? Leave the Clans? Who would do that? _Why_ would they do that?

She became aware of something nudging her side, and as she tried to refocus, she realized she was lying on the ground. Smokeheart’s yellow eyes poured into hers, and his paw rested on her side. “Moth? You okay?”

She struggled to her paws, fighting to catch her breath. “R-run away? Why?”

“Because we don’t fit in here,” Smokeheart mewed. “I know it, and I know you feel it, too. Even our mom knew it.”

Mothpaw gaped. “What?”

“Haven’t you ever wondered why Mom disappeared one day, and no cat saw her ever again?”

“Dad said she wanted to die in peace.”

“Yeah? And have you asked Ambereye if he’s ever seen her in StarClan?”

“No,” Mothpaw admitted, her stomach flip-flopping as she realized where Smokeheart's train of thought led.

“Well, I have. He’s never seen her, because she’s not there! She left. She broke out of the system, and I’m going to follow in her paw steps.”

 _She could still be in StarClan!_ Mothpaw thought. _Maybe she just doesn't have anything to say to our medicine cats!_

“You can’t change my mind,” Smokeheart mewed, sounding determined. “Featherflight and I have been discussing this for a long time.”

“Featherflight? What kind of a name is Feathflight?” asked Moth. In the absurdity of this whole situation, she was able to process so little of it. She latched onto the name as the one thing she could understand. “That’s just the same thing twice.”

“It’s the same kind of name as every other warrior name!” Smokeheart protested. “It’s no stupider than Smokeheart, or Mothpaw,” Smokeheart mewed. “Moths don’t even have paws.”

Mothpaw blinked, reminded of Flash. Hadn’t she said the same thing just a few nights ago? “What if you didn’t leave?” she begged. “I know of a group of cats from all Clans, who gather every half moon to share stories. They don’t believe in the rigid structure of the warrior code, either. I can introduce you—”

“No, Moth.” Smoke shook his head. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But being a warrior means supporting a society built around fighting, around violence. I’m not a warrior. I’m a lover.”

“Then become a medicine cat,” mewed Mothpaw, desperate for any excuse-any excuse-that would bind her brother to the Clans.

“And encourage my Clanmates to die over petty squabbles over territory markers and stolen prey? To heal them so they can jump back into battle? To follow the words of our all-knowing ancestors, who condone, even encourage, this behavior?” Smoke shook his head. “I couldn’t.”

Mothpaw’s heart raced as she scrambled to think of something, anything, but her brain felt like dull, heavy static, clouding her thoughts. “But there’s no fighting now. Everything is peaceful.”

“Yes,” Smoke argued, “And the Clans still refuse to give up their ways. They think that holding onto these rigid structures that enforce violence is the answer, even in times of peace. I can’t be complacent in this. I have to do what’s right.”

“You don’t need to leave just because some tom says you have to. You don’t need to leave to be happy.”

“Moth.” Smokeheart blinked. “Running away was my idea.”

This time, Mothpaw had braced herself so she wouldn’t fall over. “Great. Cool. I love that. That’s great. Just great.”

Smoke frowned. “Does this mean you won’t come with us?” He nuzzled her. “I know how unhappy you’ve been. I see how much you've struggled over the last few moons. Forced to be an apprentice beyond your time. Struggling to keep your body in shape. Without the Clans, you wouldn’t have to do that. You’d be able to be yourself. You wouldn’t have to learn the skills that make your body suffer.”

Mothpaw pressed her head underneath Smokeheart’s chin. She forced herself to focus on his soft, silky fur, and not the words coming out of his mouth. “Will you tell Fern?”

“Yes. If I can. But something tells me that she’s already made her decision to stay.” Smokeheart wrapped his paw around her shoulders. “Would you come with us, even if she stayed?”

Moth’s head whirled. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I could leave, even if she did agree to go. I have friends here. Shortleg, Ambereye… Tawnykit… Dad…”

“I’ll be leaving them behind, too,” Smokeheart mewed gently. “But they’re not willing to set aside their beliefs, and I’m not willing to set aside mine. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

Despite herself, Moth found herself purring. “Careful, or you’ll have me thinking that you’re part ThunderClan, with all of these grand statements about morality.” Her smile slipped off of her face. Mothpaw stepped back, head swirling with more worries than she could voice. “I’m just so close to receiving my warrior name,” she mumbled lamely, aware of how feeble an excuse it was even as she said it.

“The status of one’s warrior name means nothing.” Smokeheart blinked, expression softening, “But we’d wait for you. We’d wait for you to have your warrior name, if that’s what you wanted.”

“I…” Mothpaw hesitated. Ratpelt’s accusations that if StarClan were good, they wouldn’t let good cats die, whispered at the back of her mind. Would StarClan really order them to create territories and draw boundaries between them if it wasn’t the best way to live? “I don’t know,” she mewed at last.

“Then we’ll wait,” Smokeheart meowed. “Until you earn your warrior name.”

* * *

That night, Mothpaw crept out of the apprentices' den, which stretched overhead, too big and empty without her littermates. Even Frogjump had left her; she’d been sleeping in the medicine cat den ever since Mothpaw had helped expand it. It would be over a moon before Tawnykit joined her (if she was still an apprentice then; she shuddered at the thought) and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take, swallowed by the dark recesses of the den, alone.

Maybe Smokeheart was right. Maybe Clan life was too rigid. Maybe she was unfit to live here.

The entrance to the camp rustled, and Mothpaw looked up to see her father padding into camp, a large frog in his jaws. His eyes glinted when he saw her, and he tossed his catch in the center of camp before bounding over. “Hello, little star,” he rubbed his cheek against hers, purring.

“Hi.” Mothpaw licked his shoulder in greeting. “What are you doing?”

“I wanted to go hunting. Stretch my legs. Practice using my night vision so I don’t forget to lose it, like poor old Shortleg.” He winked. “What about you?”

Mothpaw shuffled her paws. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” Ratpelt sat down, observing Mothpaw closely. His ears angled forward, giving her his full attention.

“I feel like we’re growing apart as a family,” she confessed. “Mom disappeared when we were kits. Ferntooth is going to spend even _less_ time with us now that she’s mates with Beelight and Troutpath. And Smokeheart…” Mothpaw sighed. She couldn’t tell her father about Smokeheart. He didn't need to tell her to keep it a secret for her to know it was what he wanted. It was the least she could do for him.

Ratpelt wrapped his tail around Mothpaw. “Don’t worry. The cats who are important to you will never really leave you. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Mothpaw nodded, still uncertain. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

“And don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. Not the Dark Forest, not StarClan, not hordes of rogues could keep me away. So cheer up. It’ll all work out in the end.” Ratpelt nudged her. “Hey. I know we didn’t plan anything for tonight, but let’s do some training, just you and me. I bet I can teach you that twist and belly rake that Shortleg couldn’t teach you earlier.”

Mothpaw rose to her paws. She shook out her fur and all of her anxieties. “Okay,” she mewed. “Teach me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mothfall. Her littermates are moving in opposite directions and she's stuck in the middle, all alone. :C
> 
> Also, a small note: the canon books never really specify if mate is a general catchall for both "cat I'm dating" and "cat I'm married to," or if it only refers to the commitment implied by the latter. In this story, the word mate is reserved for the cat equivalent of marriage, and they do typically spend some time dating/courting each other before making it official. (Hence Beelight "popping the question" even though she's clearly been involved with Fern and Trout for some capacity for a while now.) On a tangentially related note, I really dislike the word mate and wish literally any other term was used in canon, lol. It just sounds so... emotionless and shallow. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I keep about 4-6 chapters ahead of what I'm posting, so at the time I had written this, the protests (revolving around systemic perpetrators of violence) in America hadn't yet started. Due to this, I apologize if Smoke's conversation with Moth is an uncomfortable topic for readers.


	9. The Family

Resting outside the apprentices’ den, Mothpaw hunched her shoulders, failing to ignore her aching paws. Ambereye and Frogjump had asked if she needed anything before they left for their half moon meeting at the moonpool, and she had said no, truthfully, but of course her joints started aching the second they set paw out of camp. She could find her way around the medicine den with her eyes closed at this point, but she didn’t want to argue with any cats who caught her rooting through the herb stores. She remembered Berrystar and Briarstreak arguing to make her a medicine cat, and she shuddered.

She glanced around the camp. Ferntooth was busy canoodling with her new mates. Mothpaw had thought they had been insufferable before, but that was before she had heard their overbearing pet names and sweet talk.

As soon as he had finished patrols, Smokeheart had snuck off to… well, wherever it is he disappeared to. Spending time with Featherflight, she supposed.

It seemed that every cat had a group except for her. Smallheart shared tongues with Puddlespots as she watched Tawnykit playfight with Shortleg and Rapidfoot. Despite being warriors, both cats were small, and Tawnykit was easily able to hold her own against them.

A short distance away, Oakkit and Mudkit watched, eyes flashing with envy. Oakkit turned to his sister, waggling his haunches as he launched at her in a clumsy imitation of Tawnypaw’s flashy leap. Mudkit screeched and swiped her paws blindly in front of her. A few tail-lengths away, Birdsong and Weedwhisker watched their kits, glowing with pride.

“They’re fine kits,” their friend Meadowstripe mewed, watching with an amused expression. “And one day, they’ll be fine warriors.”

“I’ll love them no matter who they become,” Birdsong mewed, eyes glued to their kits. “Even if they’re the worst hunters and fighters the Clans have ever seen, I’ll still love them more than all of StarClan.”

“Of course. But they won’t be, right?” Weedwhisker mewed, whiskers twitching in amusement. When Birdsong didn’t reply, she glanced at Meadowstripe, tail fluffing up in alarm. “They’ll be great warriors. Right? Right, Meadowstripe?”

The silver tabby purred in amusement. “Shut up and stop ruining the moment.”

By the medicine cat den, Briarstreak wrapped her fluffy leg around Bravefeather to hold him close even as he rolled his eyes and tried to pull away, and licked down the tuft on top of his head down with her tongue. His protests that he wasn’t a kit and could take care of himself went unheard. Nearby, Beechtail’s tail curled in amusement as she watched. Heavysong mewed something too deep and gravelly for Mothpaw to make out, and the black molly headbutted him playfully.

Beechtail had been spending much more time with Heavysong than her old mate, Acorntuft; Mothpaw wondered if she was going to have kits with him someday. It made sense, she supposed; Acorntuft was over twice her age, and ever since Pricklepaw, they hadn’t been able to look each other in the eye. Mothpaw’s gaze slipped behind them, to the medicine cat den, and she wondered what Frogjump would do if she were here. Would she join her mother and older siblings? Or would she prefer to hang out with Beechtail’s kits, who were closer to her own age?

Outside of the tree stump where the leader’s den was, she caught sight of her father, sharing tongues with Grasseyes and Willowgaze. They had been talking in hushed tones all evening. Mothpaw’s fur prickled; as she watched, Willowgaze laughed, purring so hard his sides shook and he had to gasp for breath. He nudged Grasseyes the tom rolled his eyes, but Mothpaw didn’t miss the way his whiskers twitched in amusement.

Ratpelt caught her eye, and for a moment Mothpaw’s heart lifted. She angled her ears forward, hoping he would leave the others to join her. But instead he turned away, making another comment that put Willowgaze in stitches.

Mothpaw sighed. Even though she was surrounded by her Clanmates, she couldn’t help but feel tiny and alone. Every day Shortleg promised she was closer to taking her warrior assessment. But what would that do? Would that keep Smokeheart from leaving? Would it make Ferntooth look at her for longer than a heartbeat?

At the sound of approaching pawsteps, Mothpaw whipped her head up, eager to talk to her father. Her expression fell when she recognized the broad, dappled shoulders, not of her fauther, but of Acorntuft.

She started to stand up, but the older tom waved his tail. “No, don’t move, I’m not here to take your spot.” His warm brown eyes twinkled, and Mothpaw relaxed, settling down again. “I wanted to thank you.”

Mothpaw blinked. “For what?”

Acorntuft sat down, drumming his large paw on the ground. His fur stuck up at odd angles, and in the dark lighting, Mothpaw imagined he looked more like a large pinecone than a cat. “Well, I saw how you got the elders out of camp on a walk the other day. I’m one of the oldest cats in this Clan, and I haven’t seen Willowgaze leave the camp in moons. But you managed to get them out, when Ambereye had been chewing at their tails about it for moons! I was impressed.”

“Oh.” Mothpaw blinked. “I was just doing my job.”

“No apprentice’s job is to babysit the elders,” Acorntuft mewed. “You _chose_ to do that. Thank you. Willowgaze would never admit it, so I’m saying it for him. And his mate is over the moon about it, too,” he flicked his ears towards Grasseyes, who was still absorbed in conversation with her father and his mate. “So I guess I’m thanking you on his behalf, too.”

Mothpaw followed his gaze; despite his earlier amusement, Grasseyes carried a regal air about him, as stiff and poised as ever. She didn’t think the white speckled tom looked any happier than normal, but maybe if she knew him as well as Acorntuft did, she would be able to understand when his scowls were supposed to be smiles. The two of them had practically been littermates, after all. “You’re welcome.”

“Don’t mention it.” Acorntuft stretched, pushing his front legs in front of him until they trembled and opening his mouth in a wide yawn. When he finished, he smacked his lips together. “Anyways, I’m leading a border patrol tonight. I’ll leave you to it, and I’ll gather my cats and head out.”

He looked at her sideways for a moment, and for a heartbeat her heart lifted, thinking he might invite her, but instead he dipped his head and padded off. As he headed towards the entrance, Meadowstripe, Specklefur, and Seedshade peeled away from their groups to follow him into the dark pine forest.

Alone, Mothpaw huddled by her spot in the camp, surrounded by Clanmates but feeling more alone than ever.

* * *

Mothpaw paused at the edge of the lake, as much as to take in the scenery as to rest her aching legs. The half-moon overhead dappled the lake with shining glimmers of light, and up ahead she could hear squeals of delight.

She shuffled closer, resisting the urge to shrink back when she heard Dapplecall’s mew ring out. “Hey, it’s Mothpaw! Get your tail over here; you’re late.”

She crept closer, ears burning at having been called out. “Hi.”

Shortstone, lying down on the twoleg halfbridge, waved her over, purring as she approached. “Hey, you. I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.”

“I wasn’t sure I would.” Mothpaw sat down next to her. She shook out her forepaw, wincing as another jolt of pain ran up her body.

“I didn’t see you at the gathering last full moon,” Shortstone’s mew was light and teasing, and Mothpaw flicked her ears with her tail, but didn’t protest.

“You’re just in time!” On her other side, Pebblestripe nudged her with his elbow. “We’re catching each other up on everything we’ve done since we the last half-moon.”

“I was talking about my kit,” Creekfur mewed. Like Shortstone, she was reclining on the ground, stretched out comfortably. The silver stripes on her white fur glistened in the moonlight. Mothpaw sat up straighter; she had a _kit_? She found it hard to imagine that any cat mature enough to have a family would traipse off to gossip with the other Clans late at night.

 _And yet here you are,_ a sour voice in the back of Mothpaw’s head pointed out. She shook away her houghts like water droplets.

“He was apprenticed almost a moon ago,” Creekfur mewed. “Poor Spottedpelt is going to have her paws full with that one.”

“You spoil him too much,” purred Silverleaf. The silver tabby was curled around Dapplecall, with her head resting on the cat’s round stomach. Despite having the long, strong legs of any SkyClan warrior, she looked miniscule next to Dapplecall’s round belly.

“Mousepaw's my only kit, what did you expect?” Creekfur purred. “Of course I spoil him.” Her expression softened, and she blinked at Mothpaw. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

Mothpaw stiffened. “Oh. Um. I don’t have to share. That’s okay.”

“C’mon, tell us!” Shortstone purred. She batted at Mothpaw’s side with one of her paws and blinked at her affectionately. “Please? I’d— _We’d_ like to know what you’ve been up to.”

Ears burning, Mothpaw mewed. “Um. I’m just been continuing my training, really. Nothing that exciting. Um. My littermate is officially mates with the cats she’s been courting for moons.” _And my brother’s planning to run off with a WindClan tom_.

“Congratulations,” Flash purred. She squeezed Freckle close to her, grinning. “That must be so exciting. I can still remember the night that Dapplecall proposed to me, Silverleaf, and Martysplash.”

“They said yes,” purred Dapplecall, as if it wasn’t obvious with the way they gazed moonily at Flash and Martysplash on the other side of the halfbridge.

Silverleaf purred and kneaded Dapplecall’s belly with her paw. “You big oaf.”

Mothpaw blinked. “Are you all mates with each other?”

“Just us,” Martysplash mewed, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “Though you wouldn’t be able to tell, with how affectionate Dapplecall is with anything that breathes.”

“But… Being mates with cats in other Clans isn’t allowed. And certainly not being mates with rogues. No offense,” she added with a glance at Flash and Freckle.

“None taken. It usually takes a moon or two for newcomers to get over your weird Clan superstitions,” mewed Flash.

“We’re loyal to our Clans, but we’re also loyal to each other,” Silverleaf mewed. “It’s no different than you being friends with Pebblestripe or myself. Besides, the Clans have had peace for moons! There’s no reason to worry about fighting between the Clans right now.”

 _But what if there was? What would you do?_ Watching Dapplecall lovingly cradle Silverleaf against them, Mohtpaw decided not to voice her doubts. “Good for you.”

“What about you?” Shortstone mewed. Her eyes glimmered with interest as she sat up. Even at her full height, she barely came past Mothpaw’s shoulder. “Are there any toms or mollies that have your eye?”

She remembered the way her sister always visibly lightened when she saw Beelight or Troutpath, like a load had been dropped off of her shoulders, or Smokeheart’s wistful gaze as he had told her about Featherflight. “No,” she mewed. “I don’t think I can feel that way about anycat. I’ve never wanted to.”

Was that disappointment flickering in Shortstone’s gaze?

“Join the club,” Freckle mewed. “Who needs a mate when you have family?” She nudged Flash, purring.

Flash headbutted her. “Counterpoint: who needs _a_ mate when you can have many?”

Freckle snorted and shoved Flash over. Flash growled, and the two mollies started to wrestle, rolling back and forth.

Creekfur eyed them and gave them a nudge with her back leg until they broke up. Freckle shook out her fur, pouting, and Flash glared as she moved to sit next to Martysplash. She stuck her tongue out at Freckle as Martysplash purred and slung her paw over her, pulling her close.

“Just because I can’t have a mate doesn’t mean I’m a heartless monster,” protested Mothpaw. “I love plenty of cats. Just not like that. My father, for one. He’s been really helpful during my training.” Her heart warmed as she remembered the impromptu training session he had given her a few nights ago.

Creekfur blinked at Mothpaw. “And that’s perfectly fine, though I may sound like a hypocrite for saying so. I’ve known plenty of cats who’ve never taken a mate and never regretted their decision. The medicine cats, for one.”

“Ooh,” Pebblestripe looked Mothpaw up and down. “Are you thinking of becoming a medicine cat, then?”

“No!” Mothpaw drew back. Why did everycat keep thinking that? “I’m training to become a _warrior_. I’m going to become a _warrior_.”

“Okay there, tiger,” Shortstone soothed. She reached out her paw towards Mothpaw’s side. “Sorry to strike a nerve, there. You’re alright.”

“I’m _fine._ ” Mothpaw bat Shortstone’s paw away, but twinged as her paw cramped.

Shortstone rose to her paws, tail flicking in concern. “Are you okay? You keep wincing like you’re in pain.”

“It’s nothing. My leg hurts. I overworked myself today.” Mothpaw wrapped her tail around her paws, feeling strangely defensive.

Creekfur eyed Mothpaw, looking thoughtful. “Do you have joint pain?”

“Y-yes.”

She flicked her tail. “RiverClan has a special way of dealing with that. All of our elders follow our routine, and they never get joint pain.”

Feeling she would regret asking, Mothpaw mewed, “What is it?”

“It’s easier if I show you!” Dapplecall rolled onto their paws, leaving Silverleaf to thud her chin against the surface of the halfbridge. The large cat lumbered over to Mothpaw. “Do you trust me?”

“Um.” Mothpaw glanced at Shortstone before shrugging. “I guess.”

“Great!”

Before she finished meowing, Dapplecall picked her up by the scruff. “What are you doing?” Mothpaw screeched. She struck out with her paws, hoping to catch Dapplecall, but the large cat easily stepped out of the way. They dragged her, struggling, to the end of the halfbridge.

“Have fun!” Martysplash called.

Mothpaw barely had time to think, _What?_ Before Dapplecall tossed her over the edge. She fell, yowling, until she hit the water and sank underneath.

She opened her eyes, but the murky water was too dark to see in. She flailed her paws, desperate to grab onto something to leverage herself, but all she caught were pawfuls of water. She growled, and bubbles floated out of her mouth.

The bubbles. Instinct kicked in, and Mothpaw kicked her back legs, following the bubbles. She thought – she _hoped_ – that the water looked lighter the more she kicked. She heard a thudding sound, and felt ripples of water press against her. Another cat, smaller than herself, pressed against her, guiding her the rest of the way up.

She broke the surface, heaving for air.

“Having a nice swim?”

Mothpaw glared at Dapplecall, watching from the edge of the halfbridge. They slung their front legs over the edge to get a closer look, and they could barely contain the purr in their mew.

“What in StarClan’s name were you thinking? I could have drowned!”

“You’re a cat. You naturally know how to swim. Even a kit would struggle to drown.” Dapplecall shrugged, nonplussed. “You would have never agreed had I told you what the plan was beforehand. But look, you’re moving your leg! Does it hurt?”

“N-no,” Mothpaw admitted, realizing it was true.

She felt another cat press against her, and she looked to her side to see Shortstone, looking even tinier now that her fur was slicked against her wet body. “It’s basically a rite of passage,” she mewed. “You can’t be a FunClan cat unless Dapplecall throws you over the halfbridge against your will at least once.”

“Huh,” Mothpaw mewed. And then, pelt prickling with realization, “Did you jump in after me?”

Above them, Dapplecall laughed, only stopping when Martysplash shushed them. Shortstone looked away, clearly embarrassed. “I didn’t do so well as you my first time in the water. I didn’t want you to drown.”

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” Mothpaw blinked. She didn’t know what else to say, so she started paddling to the shore. Shortstone followed close behind.

A heartbeat later, she heard rumbling across the halfbridge, and a gleeful yowl followed by a splash as Dapplecall threw themselves into the water. The ripples from their splash propelled Mothpaw the last mouse-length forward until her paws scraped the sand. Gasping for breath, she dragged herself onto the shore, her heavy fur weighing her down. She shook her fur out, realizing too late that she had just sprayed water all over Shortstone. “Sorry!” She gasped.

The drenched molly purred. “Don’t worry about it. After the fifth or sixth time, you stop noticing so much.”

Mothpaw flattened her ears against her head. _She tried to save you, and you thanked her by spraying water in her mouth_.

She looked around her, eager for an excuse to get out this uncomfortable moment. Dead logs stuck up out of the ground, supporting the twoleg halfbridge as it jutted over the water. Strange markings covered the log closest to her; as she padded closer she saw that they were cat scratches. “Did you guys do this?”

Shortstone padded rubbed her face against the log. “It’s neat, right?”

“What is it?” She squinted, tilting her head as if seeing from a different angle would help. “Are they… pictures?”

“We signed the log so that even after we left, other cats would know we’d been here. Look, this one’s mine.” She touched her nose to a wobbly ovular shape. “It’s a stone, and it’s flat so it’s short. Shortstone. Get it?”

Moth snorted. “It looks like a frog that’s been run over by a twoleg monster.”

Shortstone purred, eyes twinkling. “Well, I’d like to see you do better.”

Mothpaw pulled back. “I’m not sure.”

“That’s okay. Whenever you’re ready, it’ll be here.” Shortstone lashed her tail from side to side, like she was thinking, and then she added, “You don’t need a mate to have a family, you know. It’s okay if you’re lonely. Most of us were, at some point. But you’ll always have a family here.” She looked away, fur prickling in embarrassment.

Mothpaw blinked, surprised. “Wow. Thanks.” She pressed her nose against Shortstone’s. “That’s really nice of you.”

“I’m not just saying it to be nice. I mean it.”

Before Mothpaw could think of a response to _that_ , she heard a splashing sound from behind, and ducked her head just in time to avoid getting a spray of water in her face.

As she peaked out again, Dapplecall waddled over. They dropped a fish at Mothpaw’s paws. “Thought you could use one of these! RiverClan elders have the least joint issues of all the Clans. Between the swimming and the fish, they’re fit as tigers until the day they join StarClan. Makes you wonder why they need to retire at all, eh?” They winked, though Mothpaw wasn’t sure what for.

“Why fish?”

“Why _not_ fish?” Dapplecall shrugged. “Something about their fat makes them feel better. Try it.” Before Mothpaw could protest, they left her and Shortstone alone with the fish. They climbed back onto the halfbridge, and after a heartbeat, Mothpaw heard them join in the others’ conversation.

She glanced at Shortstone, who shrugged. “They’re an odd one, but they mean well. And nine times out of ten, they’re right. You might as well try it.” She turned around and padded back up the slope, to where she could hop back onto the halfbridge. Mothpaw stared after her, slack-jawed, then grabbed the fish and padded after her.

* * *

Mothpaw stretched at the edge of the apprentices’ den before padding out. The sky was pink with dawn’s light; though she had been up half the night, her heart leapt with excitement for the day ahead. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Dapplecall’s unorthodox tricks seemed to have worked; her joints felt better than they had in in a moon.

The warriors’ den rustled as Heavysong forced his way through the narrow entrance, and the branches tugged on his broad shoulders as he pulled through. Following numbly behind was Ratpelt, his short brown fur groomed to a sheen, as always.

Brightening, Mothpaw bounded towards him, eager to say hello. “Hi,” she mewed as she approached.

Ratpelt purred and licked her forehead as she approached. “Good morning, little star.” His nose wrinkled as he leaned in to nuzzle her. “You smell like fish. Are you secretly becoming a RiverClan cat?”

Mothpaw giggled and pushed away. “No, Dad. It must’ve blown on me while I was walking by the lake last night. Believe me, if I was running away to RiverClan, you’d be the first to know.”

“Noted.” Ratpelt’s whiskers twitched. “You’re in good spirits today. Did something happen?”

“S-sort of.” Mothpaw hesitated, then pressed her face against his shoulder. “I was talking, I mean, I was thinking, last night, and I realized that you’re my family.”

“Really?” Ratpelt’s yellow eyes glittered with mischief as his hind legs thudded onto the ground. “I would have thought you would’ve known that already, seeing as I’m your father.”

“No!” Mothpaw mewed, exasperated. “What I mean is—I realized just how much you do for me. You help me with my exercises, you give me extra training. No matter what happens to the rest of our family, no matter what my littermates do, I know I can count on you to be there for me.”

“Oh?” the mischief drained out of Ratpelt’s eyes. He watched her, tail ticking back and forth. “That’s… that’s very sweet of you, Moth. I’ll have to remember that.” He nuzzled her, and Mothpaw pressed her muzzle against his shoulder again, warmth seeping into her heart. “We’ll always be there for each other, you and I. We’ll do anything for each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More FunClan content! The first scene was inspired by my friend Ginger, who's Acorntuft's biggest fan. You're welcome, Ging. :P 
> 
> Also, some talk about sexuality and families! Mothpaw said aroace rights! I did grapple with the implications of making a disabled character aroace, but being ace is an important part of my identity that I want to showcase in my characters whenever I can. I hope scenes like those with Briarstreak and her kits help to counteract this idea that disabled characters can't be romantically involved and have kids.


	10. The Justice

“How’d it go?” Tawnykit bounced up from her post by the entrance to camp, sandy-colored tail raised in excitement. 

Mothpaw stumbled, holding her head high and praying that she didn’t trip over her squirrel’s tail as she carried it into camp. She sidestepped Tawnykit, focusing on making her way over the freshkill pile without dropping her squirrel. She’d been out hunting all day, and now the sun had almost set; between her exhaustion, the prey on her back, and her clumsy paws, she had to focus to keep from stumbling.

Shortleg stretched out their paw to block Tawnykit. “She did great,” they purred. “Passed her fighting and hunting assessment with flying colors.”

“Yay!” Tawnykit bounced on her paws, then bounded over to her mother, who was sunning with Birdsong, Oakkit and Mudkit napping in between them. “Momma! Did you hear that! Mothpaw passed!”

“That’s wonderful, dear,” Smallheart mewed, not lifting her head.

“Did I hear right?” Ratpelt padded over as Mothpaw dropped her catch into the freshkill pile. He licked her ear, purring so hard she could feel it thrumming through his body. “My little star passed her assessment?”

“Not so little anymore,” Mothpaw teased, nudging him. He had long legs, to be sure, but between Ambereye’s exercises and her long, fluffy fur, she easily had twice his bulk.

“Moth!” 

She barely had time to brace herself as Smokeheart tackled her to the ground, smothering her in his long, silvery fur. She spat out a mouthful of fur hair as she sat up again. 

“How’d it go?” Smokeheart mewed. Behind him, Ferntooth padded over, nudging Mothpaw with a grin.

“I passed,” Mothpaw mewed.

“That’s awesome!” Smokeheart’s eyes glittered.

“First, I become makes with Beelight and Troutpath to be her mates, and now you’re finally becoming a warrior?” Ferntooth mewed, tail curling in delight. “StarClan is looking down on us this moon.”

“StarClan isn’t looking out for anycat,” Ratpelt snapped. His expression softened again as he gazed at Mothpaw. “She did this all by herself.”

Tawnykit scurried over, headbutting Mothpaw. “Aunckle Shortleg’s talking to Berrystar! You’re gonna be a warrior any heartbeat!” she chirped. “I wish I could’ve been apprentices with you, Mothpaw! We would’ve had so much fun together.”

“We still can.” Moth rubbed her paw in between Tawnykit’s ears, grinning.

Tawnykit pushed her away, giggling. “What do you hope your warrior name will be?”

Mothpaw flicked her ear. In truth, her assessment had always seemed so far off that she hadn't given it any thought in moons. “Anything, as long as it’s not too mouse-brained.”

Tawnykit was about to respond when Ferntooth butted in between them, angling her ears towards the leader’s den. “Look!”

Berrystar stood beneath the tree, looking over the camp. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Pinebranch for a Clan meeting.”

“That’s you!” Tawnykit chirped, bounding over to Smallheart. The gray-speckled molly snatched her kit up in her paws and licked her rumpled sandy-colored fur down with large strokes of her tongue.

“Well, go on,” Ratpelt mewed, nudging Mothpaw forward. Paws trembling, she padded towards the Pinebranch. Berrystar motioned for the ginger molly to stand beside her. As she moved forward, she prayed to StarClan that she wouldn’t trip.

Ambereye stepped out of the medicine cat den. When he caught her nervous eye, he smiled and nodded. Frogjump followed, supporting a limping Heavysong. “Careful, or you’ll strain your paw again,” she chided. When she caught Mothpaw staring at her, her green eyes widened, and she dipped her head.

Despite the tension of the moment, Mothpaw relaxed. She had the support of the medicine cats, her family, and the Clan. Even if she tripped, or misspoke, she would be okay.

Berrystar cleared her throat. The gathered cats grew silent, waiting with bated breath to see what she would say. Mothpaw found herself leaning forward, as if she could will her leader to speak faster. _Hurry up! I’m not getting any younger_!

“Cats of ShadowClan, we are gathered here today to mark one of the most important ceremonies a cat will have in her lifetime. It’s one I always look forward to and one that is, in my opinion, incredibly overdue.”

A few cats purred in amusement. Even Ambereye ducked his head, as if he had been admonished. Berrystar waited for silence before continuing. “Tawnykit, step forward.”

Mothpaw’s jaw dropped. _What_?!

The gathered cats murmured in confusion, but she barely noticed as her surroundings turned to static, stabbing into her ears like claws. She barely noticed as Tawnykit squirmed out of her mother’s grasp and rushed over, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Seedshade stepped forward and pressed her golden-brown nose against the sandy-furred molly's. Tawnykit – Tawnypaw? she hadn’t even heard her leader announce her new name – turned around to beam at Mothpaw and mouthed something that she didn’t understand. The new apprentice pranced off, tail high in the air; her mentor followed her with an amused expression.

Mothpaw stared blankly after them, unable to process. She didn’t know how many times Berrystar repeated her name before she got her attention. “Yes!” She jerked to attention, whipping around to face her mentor.

In the crowd, some cat snorted. “Maybe she’s not ready to be a warrior,” Grasseyes muttered.

“I am, too!” Mothpaw retorted. She glared at the senior warrior, who blinked in surprise. A few cats laughed, and Acorntuft headbutted the white-and-speckled warrior, snickering. It wasn’t until Mothpaw faced her leader and saw the surprise in the black-and-white molly’s face that she realized what she had done wrong. She forced herself not to shrink back and met her gaze evenly.

After a heartbeat, the black-and-white molly looked upwards into the sky, clearly deciding that admonishing an apprentice at her own warrior ceremony wasn’t worth it. “I, Berrystar, leader of ShadowClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. She has trained harder and longer than most cats could imagine in order to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend her to you as a warrior in their turn. Mothpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

She lifted her chin, willing her voice not to tremble. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Oh, no! Not Mothpaw Tongue-Tied! Not now!

Panic flashed chilled her bones, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ambereye meet her gaze and make an exaggerated sigh. Copying him, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When she had finished, her tongue had unfrozen. _Thank you, Ambereye!_ “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Mothpaw, from this moment you will be known as Mothfall. StarClan honors your determination and gumption. We welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan.”

Mothfall barely has time to think _, She named me_ what _?_ before the Clan started cheering. Berrystar pressed her nose to Mothfall’s forehead. When they pulled back, the molly motioned towards the crowd with her head. “Go greet your Clanmates,” she rasped.

Mothfall’s family rushed to greet her. “Mothfall! Mothfall!” Smokeheart chanted. He rubbed his face against her, purring so loudly she could feel it in her chest. “It’s the perfect name.”

“Congratulations, Mothfall.” Ferntooth mewed, touching her nose to Mothfall’s ear. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“Mothfall!” Shortleg called out. They purred as they limped forward, pressed their nose to hers. “I’m so proud of you. I could never hope to have a better apprentice.”

“She worked very hard for this,” Ambereye mewed, pressing through the gathered cats to give his respects. He pressed his side against hers briefly before pulling away. “You deserve it.”

Ratpelt’s eyes flashed at the medicine cat before turning back to Mothfall. “My kit!” he purred. “All of my kits, finally warriors. I couldn’t be more proud.”

Mothfall blinked fondly at all three cats – they were all her mentors, really. Shortleg may have been the only one officially recognized by StarClan, but any one of their help, she wouldn’t be standing here today with her warrior name.

Ferntooth rolled her eyes, but Mothpaw ignored her. On her other side, Smokeheart pressed against her, beaming. “Now that we’re warriors, our lives can finally start for real,” he purred.

* * *

As dusk settled through the forest, Mothfall pressed her way to the front of the gathered cats. Berrystar stood underneath the Pinebranch, watching everyone with a silent, watchful eye. Mothfall's paws trembled as the leader’s gaze swept over her.

“Careful, or you’ll vibrate yourself right out of your fur,” Smokeheart purred, nudging her.

Mothfall whisked her tail against his. “This won’t be just my first gathering a warrior,” she whispered. “This will be my first gathering, period.” Several days had passed since she had become a warrior, and she had felt like she was walking on air the entire time. Finally, the night she had been waiting for was here! Berrystar and Briarstreak had always dismissed her requests to go to the gathering as an apprentice, but they couldn’t do that anymore. Now that she was a warrior, she had proven herself worthy to bear the ShadowClan name. They couldn’t make excuses about her tarnishing their image.

Smokeheart nodded and intertwined his tail against hers. She waited with bated breath to hear who Berrystar would announce was coming.

The black-and-white molly cleared her throat. “Tonight is the full moon, the night of the gathering. As always, coming with me are Briarstreak, Ambereye, and Frogjump,” she nodded at the three cats, who were already waiting behind the crowd, closer to the camp entrance. “I will also bring Grasseyes, Acorntuft, Smallheart, Weedwhisker, Birdsong, Ratpelt, Seedshade, Ferntooth, Rapidfoot, Smokeheart, and Tawnypaw. The rest of you are dismissed.” She flicked her tail, dismissing the gathered cats, and started to shoulder her way to the front entrance.

Mothfall stared at her black tail as she limped away, frozen in place. What? Surely she had misheard? She shook her head and chased after her, trying and failing to keep her fur lying flat. “Wait.”

Berrystar grunted, but slowed to a stop. “What is it?”

“Why aren’t I going to the gathering?” Mothfall mewed.

“Moth,” Smokeheart mewed, padding up behind her.

“No!” Moth snapped, fur bristling. She took a deep breath and faced her leader, determined not to flinch in the wake of her steely stare. “I have a right to know.”

Berrystar grunted. “You worked hard today. You went on two patrols. I would have thought you wanted to stay home and rest.”

“Well, you could have asked instead of assuming. I’m more than willing to go. I _want_ to go.”

“Ambereye says you shouldn’t be overworked.”

“Oh, did he tell you that I couldn’t come, then?”

“Well, no.” Berrystar twitched her tail, glancing at the cats around her. They had noticed the interruption, and were wandering back from the entrance to camp, watching with interest.

“Then I think I should be able to make my own decisions, shouldn’t I? I’ve _never_ been to a gathering.”

“That can’t be right, I—”

“Never,” Mothfall insisted. “And neither has Shortleg, as far back as I can remember. I thought they were supposed to be one of your loyal senior warriors!”

“They are.”

“Then how come they never get to go to gatherings? Even Tawnypaw’s going to the gathering. None of my littermates got to go to the gathering during the first moon of our apprenticeship!”

Cats stared at the two of them, looking back and forth between the two cats. Mothfall could hear several cats muttering, but she didn’t care if they agreed or not. What was the point of being a warrior if she got less respect than an apprentice? Berrystar didn’t even make her a warrior first at her own warrior ceremony! All she wanted was what was _right_.

“Alright, fine, you can come.” Berrystar flicked her tail and started to turn away.

Mothfall braced her paws. “Shortleg needs to come, too.”

“Mothfall, is this really necessary?” Shortleg limped forward. They tried to run their tail over her side, but she shook them off. “I don’t mind not going to the gatherings, honestly. I’m a bit of a homebody myself.”

“Then Berrystar can invite you, and if you really don’t want to go you can decline.” Mothfall glared. “But shouldn’t you at least have the option?”

More cats were muttering, now, loud enough to overhead. “It's true that Shortleg hasn’t gone to a gathering in moons,” Meadowstripe murmured to Rapidfoot. The gray-and-white tom eyed the gray-speckled cat and nodded in agreement.

“You know what I think, Berrystar? You have a prejudice against your disabled Clanmates.”

Several cats gasped. Berrystar turned on Mothfall, ire burning in her gaze. “How dare you speak to your leader like that,” she growled. “How dare you speak to _me_ like that? I’m one of your own.” She flicked her tail over the scar running down her leg.

“You think that Shortleg’s leg and my disorder make the Clan look weak." Mothfall huffed, fur bristling. Smokeheart nudged her, trying to calm her down again, but she shook him off and pressed up against Berrystar, glaring into her face. "But we’re not weak! ShadowClan is strong because _all_ of its warriors are respected. Or they should be, at least.”

“I bring the warriors who make ShadowClan appear strongest,” Berrystar gruffed.

“Showing that you care for the well being of all of your Clanmates, including the disabled ones, would make you appear strong.”

Berrystar glowered. Mothfall met her gaze and refused to shy away, even though staring into those furious eyes made her skin crawl.

After the world’s longest heartbeat, the black and white molly relented. “Very well. You two can come.”

She padded off, tail lashing side to side. The cats broke up again, and Mothfall followed the rest of the cats headed to the gathering, head and tail held high.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Shortleg mewed, following behind her. “But thanks.”

“ _Real_ Clanmates look out for each other,” Mothfall mewed.

“That was impressive!” Tawnypaw yowled, bouncing over. “Did you see how mad Berrystar looked?”

“Kind of hard not to.”

“I thought she was going to _kill you_! But she didn’t! You’re the best, Mothfall.” Tawnypaw bounced off, calling out for her mentor Seedshade to wait up.

Mothfall fell into place with the rest of her family. Ratpelt didn’t say anything, but watched her with some unreadable expression glittering in his eyes. He looked concerned – no, not concerned. She couldn’t put her paw on it, exactly.

Smokeheart brushed his pelt against hers, purring happily, and Ferntooth followed nearby, even though she only had eyes for Troutpath.

Mothfall’s fur prickled. Finally, she was going to her first gathering!

* * *

Mothfall lept off of the fallen tree bridge and onto the gathering island. She inhaled deeply, drinking in the scents of all five Clans. _I’ve never seen so many cats in one place before!_

She glanced at her siblings, unsure of what to do, but Ferntooth was already wandering off to greet a group of large, broad-shouldered cats that had to belong to ThunderClan. Smokeheart pressed his nose to her ear. “I’ll save a spot for you after the gathering starts,” he mewed, and slipped off before Mothfall could ask where she was going. She bit her tongue. He must be looking for Featherflight. Of course. 

Thankfully, her father pressed against her, offering his comforting presence. “Come along,” he mewed, guiding her forward with his tail around her shoulders. “I’ll show you around. This must be so exciting for you.”

“And overwhelming,” Mothfall admitted.

“Firsts always are. Let’s see, there’s some warriors about your age over—”

A familiar scent caught Mothfall’s attention, and she twisted her head, trying to locate the cat it belonged to. “Creekfur!” She called as she bound forward.

The light tabby purred as she approached. “Hi, Mothpaw. Glad you could finally make it to a gathering.”

She puffed out her chest. “It's Moth _fall_ now, actually.” 

Creekfur’s gaze glimmered with pride. “Is that so?”

A small brown tabby peaked out from behind Creekfur, blinking his large yellow eyes at Mothfall. “Hey, Mom. Who’s this?”

“I could ask you the same question, little star.” Ratpelt rubbed his side against hers as he caught up to her.

Was Mothall imagining things, or did Creekfur’s eyes narrow when she saw Ratpelt? She wrapped her paw around the small brown tabby and pulled him close. “Mothfall, this is my son, Mousepaw. This is his first gathering, so I’m showing him around.”

“That’s funny! My dad’s showing me around, too,” she motioned to her father. “Dad, this is Creekfur. We met at—er, I met her on a patrol once or twice. And Creekfur, this is—”

“Ratpelt,” Creekfur interrupted. “I know. I’ve seen him around.”

“Uh, of course.” She ducked her head, ears burning. Ratpelt went to most gatherings; of course Creekfur would have seen him before. Desperate for an excuse to change the subject, she angled her ears at Mousepaw. “It’s nice to finally meet your kit! Is your mate nearby?”

She glanced around, wondering which RiverClan cat could possibly explain Mousepaw’s bright yellow eyes or long, wiry legs. He certainly didn’t get them from his mother, who had the typical round, built RiverClan body. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Mousepaw reminded her of somecat she’s met before. He stared at her with bright yellow eyes, and she shivered.

“Um.” Now it was Creekfur’s turn to be embarrassed, and she hunched her shoulders. “I don’t have a mate, actually. It’s just me and my kit.”

“Huh.” Mothfall tilted her head. She’d always knew, deep down, that she’d never be the cat to take a mate. She’d never felt that way about another cat, and she knew that she never could. She’d never thought that Creekfur, who she had first seen wrapped around Silverleaf like a second pelt, would be that kind of cat, too.

“Well, it’s always nice to meet a friend of my kit’s,” Ratpelt mewed tartly. “I’ve seen you at gatherings too, of course, but it’s a pleasure to meet you officially.”

“You, too,” Creekfur's tail tightened around Mousepaw's side as she spoke.

“Hey, Creekfur, I wanted to say hi to your—Oh! Mothpaw?”

As Shortstone bounded over, whiskers twitching in amusement, Creekfur reached out to touch her nose in greeting. “Hi there. It’s Mothfall, now.”

Shortstone beamed at Mothfall. “No way. Really? Congratulations!”

Ratpelt purred. “Okay, now how did you meet this one?”

“Oh,” Mothfall stammered. “Um.”

Shortstone stepped in, as smooth as ever. “I was visiting Creekfur while escorting WindClan’s medicine cat to RiverClan territory. They were talking for a while, so Creekfur took me on a patrol, where I ran into Mothfall.”

Ratpelt flicked his tail against Mothfall’s side. “My, aren’t you the proper socialite, little star?”

Mothfall headbutted Ratpelt’s shoulder, ears burning. “Dad, stop.”

“I just wanted to say hi to you and young Mousepaw. I heard it was his first gathering,” Shortstone mewed, nodding at the young tom. “And now it’s your first, too! But the leaders are going to talk any moment now, so I should get going. I’ll see you around?”

She seemed to direct the question at Creekfur, who nodded, but Mothfall didn’t miss the way the molly’s eyes glanced her way before turning and bounding towards the WindClan section of the island.

“She’s right. You should go find Smokeheart,” Ratpelt nudged her. “I’ll go find the other senior ShadowClan warriors. We’ll catch up after the gathering.”

“Okay,” Mothfall mewed. She nodded goodbye to Creekfur and dashed off, looking for Smokeheart, heart beating out her chest at the thought of finally, _finally_ , listening in on a gathering. 

It felt like only heartbeats later the leaders were leaping down from the tree. A current of conversation rose up among the gathered cats, talking among each other before splitting up to head home.

Smokeheart ran his tail against Mothfall’s side. “So, what did you think?”

“It happened so quickly,” Mothfall mewed, still dazed.

Smokeheart purred. “They do that, don’t they? Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet before we go home.”

Unsure of what else she would do, Mothfall padded after him; despite the throngs of cats pushing against her, eager to say goodbye until next time, it was hard to lose track of her brother’s long, silvery fur.

Smokeheart’s ears angled forward, and he bounded towards a skinny white tom, with pale orange paws, tail, and face. Mothfall’s nose twitched; he smelled of heather and sage.

“Hi, you,” Smokeheart purred. He rubbed his face against the tom’s cheek.

The tom purred, tail curling in delight. He blinked when he saw Mothfall, and she blinked at how startlingly pale his eyes were. They were silver, like the moon… or like smoke.

“You must be Mothfall,” the tom mewed, his voice smooth and deep. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“And you’re Featherflight,” Mothfall mewed stiffly. Her fur prickled; she'd never doubted her brother, but the situation had always felt far-off and vague when she couldn't put a face to the name. She didn't have that excuse anymore. 

“Let’s talk somewhere quieter.” The tom waved for them to follow with his tail as he crept behind a bush. Mothfall and Smokeheart followed close behind, crouching so close together that their whiskeres brushed.

“Smokeheart’s told me so much about you.” Featherflight began, speaking in a low hush. “He says that you've trained harder than most cats to become a warrior, and that tonight you stood up to your leader on behalf of yourself and your mentor.” He glanced at Smokeheart, warmth pouring out of his gaze. “If half of the things he’s said about you are true, then you must be a very brave cat.”

She shuffled her paws, unsure of how to react to such praise from a cat she hardly knew. “It was nothing. I was just doing what I had to do.”

“Oh, and she’s modest too,” Featherflight’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “And they say mollies can’t have it all.”

Smokeheart headbutted him playfully, but when he turned towards Mothfall, his gaze turned deadly serious. “Have you given any thought to what I asked you?”

Featherflight examined her closely. “I’ve always been dissatisfied with my life here in the Clans. I knew there had to be a different way. It wasn’t until I met Smokeheart that I realized I wasn’t alone.” He looked her up and down. “And as he tells it, you’re one of us, too. Imagine there being three of us!”

 _There’s more than just us,_ Mothfall thought desperately. _But FunClan doesn't believe that they have to abandon everycat they love in order to be happy._

“I have thought long and hard,” she mewed slowly, “but I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to say.”

“Oh, Moth. No,” Smokeheart’s eyes grew round and worried.

“I’m sorry.” She nuzzled Smokeheart. Her heart ached, but she knew she had made the right decision.

“But you’re one of us, Moth,” Smokeheart protested. “You’re a lover, not a warrior. Like us. You don’t belong here.”

“Whether or not that’s true, there are too many cats here I care about. Dad, Fern, Shortleg…” Shortstone and the rest of FunClan, too, but she didn’t dare say that out loud. “You told me that the Clans are subject to needless violence. If that’s true, then I need to stay here and protect them.” She remembered how happy she’d felt earlier, when she had been named a warrior and her entire family had been there to congratulate her. Had that really just been a few short days ago? Why couldn’t her life be like that all the time?

Smokeheart mewled like a kitten and pressed his face against Featherflight’s chest. Featherflight rested his orange chin against his mate's forehead. “You’re a good cat, Mothfall. Don’t let Clan life destroy that big, loving heart of yours.”

Smokeheart was sullen the entire way home. Mothfall padded beside him silently, unsure what she could say that could possibly make him feel better, when she couldn’t say the one thing he wanted to hear.

Mothfall thought he might run away before they made it to camp. But he dragged his paws inside, tail trailing through the pine needles. “Fern, wait,” he mewed, as their sister padded by on her way to the warriors’ den.

The dark ginger molly motioned for Troutpath to go on before turning to face them. “What?”

“Will you sleep with us, one last time?” Smokeheart mewed. “Like when we were apprentices? Just one last time. I’ll never ask anything of you, ever again.”

Ferntooth purred. “Alright, fuzzball. But this doesn’t have to be your last request. You know that, right? I’ll always be here when you need me.”

The three of them curled up together on the edge of the warriors’ den, with Smokeheart in the middle with his sisters sandwiched on either side of him.

“Goodnight, Smoke,” Mothfall whispered into his ear.

“Goodbye, Moth,” he whispered back. “I don’t love you any less for this. I hope you know that. No matter what happens, you’ll always be my sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warrior ceremony finally! Though, poor Moth; it seems that for every step forward she takes, she gets shoved two steps back. :C 
> 
> This is my longest chapter yet, oops. My chapters seem to inch up in word count... Oh well. More Moth time for y'all! 
> 
> Enjoy!


	11. The Defects

Still drowsy with sleep, Mothfall stretched her legs out. Her paw sank into the thin fur of the cat next to her, and she quickly pulled back. After moons stuck in the apprentices’ den by herself, the warriors’ den felt cramped in comparison.

She rolled over and stretched her paws onto her other side. This time, she reached into the empty nest beside her, and there was plenty of space to stretch out.

Wait a moment. An empty nest?

Mothfall’s eyes flew open. “Smokeheart.” She pawed around his nest, as if hoping she would find him hiding underneath the thick moss. His nest was cold; he must have left in the middle of the night.

In the center of his nest was a single, downy feather. Her heart sank. Even though she had known this was coming, she had hoped against hope that it was all some sort of elaborate prank, or a dream.

On the other side of the nest, her sister shifted, and blinked at her sleepily with two dark yellow eyes. As she followed Moth’s gaze to the empty nest in between them, her expression fell. “Oh. He did it.”

“He told you, right?” Mothfall whispered.

“Yeah. Still, I didn’t believe…” Ferntooth's dark ginger tail ticked back and forth, her eyes dark. “He told me you were going with him.”

The ginger molly shook her head. “He asked me to. But I couldn’t leave.”

“And you couldn’t stop him?”

“What was I supposed to do?”

Ferntooth watched her carefully, then flicked her ear. “I guess you’re right,” she mewed, though she didn’t sound convinced. “What should we do? Do we tell the others?”

“We have to, right? Otherwise we’d waste our time sending out search parties that won’t find anything.”

“Is there something you two would like to share?” Briarstreak grunted. She didn’t turn to face Mothfall and Ferntooth as she spoke, washing her tongue down her side in long, smooth strokes. The molly had slept close to the center of the den, as the deputy usually did. “You two aren’t as quiet as you think you are.”

Mothfall shared a final glance with her sister before clearing her throat. “Smokeheart ran away last night. He’s left the territories, and he’s not coming back.”

That got her attention. “He’s _what_?” Briarstreak swung her head around to glare at the two of them, fur bristling.

At her paws, Acorntuft shook off a spare clump of bracken stuck between his ears as he raised his head. “What's all this yelling? What happened?”

“Smokeheart ran away?” Suddenly wide awake, Grasseyes leapt to his paws. He fixed his steely gaze on Mothfall, as if this was all her fault. “Why?”

Mothfall squirmed under his gaze and didn’t speak.

Ferntooth flicked her tail across Mothfall’s side. “He wasn’t happy here. So he left. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?Losing a warrior is always a big deal!” Briarstreak snapped. “You two knew, but didn’t say anything?”

Mothfall’s fur bristled. “What would you have done? Kept him prisoner so he couldn’t leave?”

Briarstreak sniffed. “Come with me. Berrystar will want to hear about this from you.” She whisked her tail as she turned around and padded out of the den.

“She doesn’t want to be the one to break the bad news to Berrystar, more like,” Ferntooth grumbled. The dark ginger molly climbed to her paws and tiptoed out of the den. The other warriors grumbled and glared as she passed; she hunched her shoulders and stared at the ground as she slipped out of the den and followed her sister to the leader’s den.

* * *

“Ambereye, can I talk to you?” Mothfall hated to interrupt the medicine cat while he was sharing tongues during one of his rare breaks, but she wasn’t sure when she’d have a better opportunity. After spending all morning under Berrystar’s glowering eye, she and Ferntooth had been punished with cleaning the elders’ ticks and fleas for a half moon. Despite her protests and demanding questions, Mothfall still wasn’t sure what she was being punished for.

The golden-brown tom glanced at Acorntuft. “Do you mind?”

Acorntuft shook his head and motioned for him to go on. “Don’t mind me. I’ll go see if Birdsong and Weedwhisker need anything from me.” The thickset mottled brown tom rolled to his paws, tail ticking back and forth as he waddled away.

Ambereye waited until he was out of earshot because he turned to Mothfall. “How are you feeling?” He nuzzled her between the ears, concern radiating off his pelt.

“I don’t know. Bad, I guess.” She shrugged, unsure how to put the torrent of emotion roiling in her belly into words. “It’s hard. I mean, I knew this was coming, but…” She dug her claws into the ground.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Ambereye touched his nose her shoulder. “Try to remember that your brother’s behavior only reflects on him, not you.”

“The why are Ferntooth and I being punished?” Mothfall snapped. After her words left her mouth, she stiffened. She pulled back, searching Ambereye’s gaze for signs of anger. “Sorry. I know it’s it’s not your fault.”

But the golden-brown tom’s gaze is filled with compassion, not anger. “That question has nagging at me, too,” Ambereye mewed. He scooted closed and wrapped his tail around Mothfall. “I’ll talk to Berrystar later tonight and see if I can talk some sense into her. You have to understand, she’s not angry. She’s scared.”

Mothfall angled her ears forward, surprised. “Really?”

“Well, think of it from her perspective. She thought her warriors were happy, but then one up and leaves without any warning. It must mean she’s doing something wrong, right? I know, it wasn’t anything she did,” he added, when Mothfall opened her mouth to protest, “But that’s how she sees it. It’s her duty to protect her warriors, and from where she’s sitting, she’s failed.”

“Huh.” Mothfall considered this for a heartbeat. She pressed into the older cat's side. “Ambereye?”

“Yes, Mothfall?”

“Does this mean that Smokeheart is gone forever?”

“Well, that depends on if he wants to come back, doesn’t it?”

“No, I mean, _forever,_ forever. Like… will I see him again in StarClan? Or my mom? Smokeheart told me that you’ve never seen her in StarClan. That it’s possible she ran away, too.”

“Ah.”

Ambereye’s non-answer told Mothfall everything she needed to know. “Why not?”

“Most cats that leave the Clans, whether it’s of their own choice or not, turn their backs on all aspects of Clan life. That includes StarClan. There have been exceptions, of course, but they’re rare. Most cats aren’t willing to enter StarClan’s hunting grounds, even if they would be allowed in.”

She shivered. “Do they go to the Dark Forest?”

“Probably not. The Dark Forest is more than a place that cats go to when they make a few mistakes. It’s hard for a cat to enter the Dark Forest, unless they’ve specifically aligned themselves with the cats that reside there.”

“Then where do they go?” She surprised herself at how desperate and pitiful her mew sounded.

Ambereye shrugged. “I’ve heard they wander the earth, searching. For what, I’m not sure. Maybe they watch over their loved ones, the same way StarClan does.”

A seed of dread sprouted in Mothfall’s stomach. “Does this mean… I’ll never see my brother again?”

Ambereye nuzzled her. Mothfall pressed into him, trembling, and he rested his chin on her forehead. “Those who love us never truly leave us. They always find a way back to us, in the end. You’ll see Smokeheart when you taste his favorite prey, or see a beautiful sunset, or tell your family that you love them.”

Mothfall squeezed her eyes shut. “I have so many thoughts. It’s so hard to tell what’s real and what’s not.”

“It’s always sad to lose someone you love. Even if you knew it was coming.” Ambereye wrapped his paw around her shoulders and held her close. “It’s okay to not know how you feel right now.”

The two of them leaned against each other for longer than Mothfall cared to count. By the time she had stopped trembling enough to stand, the sun had finished setting, and the moon cast its shadow into the clearing.

Mothfall pulled away from Ambereye, and he let her go, watching her with his watchful gaze. “You’ll be okay for tonight?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“You can always talk to me. Keeping your mind healthy is just as important to me as keeping your body healthy.”

Gratitude welled in Mothfall’s heart. “Thank you.” She nuzzled Ambereye one last time before dragging herself to the warriors’ den. Between the excitement of the gathering last night, and all of the chaos from today, she felt like she could sleep for a moon.

A few cats blinked at her sympathetically as she crept into the den, but most ignored her. Mothfall ignored them right back. She snuck over to Ferntooth, who was sandwiched between Beelight and Troutpath. Beelight rested her chin on Ferntooth’s spine, and Troutpath’s tail slung over her side.

Mothfall nudged her sister. “Hey. I talked to Ambereye, and he said he can get us out of our punishment.”

Ferntooth cracked open one yellow eye. “Huh?”

“Yeah, he said we didn’t do anything bad, and he would talk to Berrystar.”

“Uh huh.” Ferntooh grunted. She sighed, and lifted her head, careful to not dislodge either of her mates from their rest. “Listen, Moth. I think I need some space right now.”

Mothfall’s expression fell. “You don’t believe this is my fault, do you?”

“No,” mewed Ferntooh, though her mew trembled and she wouldn’t meet Mothfall’s gaze. “I just need some time to myself. To process what’s happened. First Pricklepaw, now Smokeheart… It’s been a hard year. I just need time to think.”

 _So Troutpath and Beelight help, but not me?_ Mothfall bit her tongue. She dipped her head, respecting Ferntooth’s wishes. She crept to the other side of the warriors’ den, where she wouldn’t have to look at her sister.

The warriors’ den didn’t have assigned nests, and they rotated every so often so that no cat was stuck by the frigid entrance in Leaf-bare, or in the stuffy, muggy center in Green-leaf. As Mothfall search for an empty spot, she noticed her father motioning her over.

As she approached, he pulled her close, nuzzling her forehead and sweeping her close with his tail. “It’s been a hard day for you, huh?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” she responded, unsure of what she could say that could properly describe the ache tumbling around her stomach.

“You can stay with me tonight,” Ratpelt murmured. “I’ll keep you safe. And unlike your brother, I’ll still be here in the morning.”

* * *

The half-moon peaked out from behind wispy clouds. Mothfall glanced upwards, afraid it would become completely covered.

She tucked her fluffy tail around her paws, feeling the cool twoleg halfbridge beneath her. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but Dapplecall had been right; swimming in the lake did wonders for her joint pain. She had slipped into the lake before joining the others on the halfbridge, much to Dapplecall’s delight. They and Creekfur had joined her in the water; the two RiverClan cats literally swam in circles around her.

Now, she rested on the halfbridge with the other FunClan cats, her damp fur drying in the crisp Leaf-fall breeze.

“Mothfall, Mothfall, Mothfall,” Freckle mewed, rolling the name on her tongue. “Mothfall. Have you realized your name sounds a lot like ‘mothball’?”

“Don’t patronize her,” Creekfur mewed, tail flicking.

The pinkish molly raised her paws in the air. “Hey, I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. See, you’re not offended, are ya, Mothball?”

“Uh huh,” Mothfall mewed, staring up at the sky again.

“Mothfall?” Shortstone mewed. She sat up and pressed her paw over Mothfall’s. “Hey. Are you alright? You’ve been acting weird all night. I would’ve thought you would be happy, seeing as we’re celebrating your warrior name.”

“I would’ve thought so, too.”

Creekfur watched her, concern evident in her gaze. “You can talk to us if something’s eating at you.”

Mothfall hummed, shuffling her paws. She glanced at Shortstone, who blinked in encouragement. “I’ve just been thinking,” she mewed. “About something my littermate told me.”

“What’d they say?” asked Dapplecall, rolling onto their belly and propping themselves up, giving Mothfall their full attention. Flash readjusted her position, moving to lay her front half over Dapplecall’s spine. The black-and-white molly cracked one eye open at Mothfall, but she didn’t seem as interested as her mate.

“He told me that I didn’t fit in ShadowClan. He said we were lovers, not fighters, and that we could never be truly happy if we were stuck inside the Clan’s rigid system. He ran away after the gathering. He asked me to come with him.” She looked at her paws. “I didn’t go.”

Beside her, Shortstone wrapped her tail tightly around her paws. The stone-gray molly tensed her shoulders, but didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry,” Creekfur mewed. “It’s always hard when you lose a littermate.”

Mothfall shrugged. “Ambereye said he wouldn’t be allowed into StarClan, so I’ll probably never see him again.”

“StarClan,” Flash muttered darkly. She rolled her eyes.

Dapplecall whisked their tail over her mouth, before facing Mothfall. “Of course, there’s a place for you in the Clans. There’s a place for every cat. If there wasn’t a place for cats who want to bond and not engage in petty boundary squabbles, then where would we be? That’s the belief that FunClan was founded on: that every cat belongs in the Clans. Even the strange ones.”

“So you’re saying that if I tried harder, I could have kept my brother here,” mewed Mothfall flatly.

“Of course not,” the dappled brown cat replied. “Maybe, if things had been different, he might have been able to forge his own place in the Clans. But he had clearly made up his mind that he wouldn’t be happy unless he left. If you had tried to keep him here, he would have been miserable. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“Uh huh.” Mothfall didn’t protest, but the RiverClan cat’s words did nothing to smooth the turmoil roiling in her belly.

Mothfall didn’t speak for the rest of the night. She hardly processed what was going on around her; Freckle told a story that had Silverleaf and Martysplash rolling on their backs and laughing, but she couldn’t comprehend what the joke was about, let alone what was so funny.

The world grew cloudy and distant. She felt far away and small.

“Mothfall?”

Something cold touched her ear. Grounded back to earth, Mothfall jumped, her tail bushing out as she whirled to face her attacker.

It was Dapplecall, whiskers twitching in amusement. “Hi. I didn’t realize you weren’t here. But I wanted to give you something. Creekfur told me about your warrior name after the gathering, and I made this specially for you.” She dropped something at Mothfall’s feet.

It was a small, wooden lump, a little larger than her paw, with a cord winding around it. Mothfall pawed at it, surprised that the cord was sinewy and strong. “What is it?”

“It’s a moth!” Dapplecall stuff their chest out proudly. “I spent all day carving it specially for you. The cord is dried mouse guts. That way, you can wrap the token around your tail, or wear it over your head.”

“Like those weird collars kittypets wear?” Mothfall asked, surprised.

Dapplecall purred in amusement. “Sort of. It’s more delicate than a collar though, so be careful. Keep it safe in your nest when you’re not using it.”

“Thanks.” Mothfall pawed it, unsure what the point of this gift was. “What’s it for?”

“In RiverClan, it’s customary for cats to give gifts to their friends when they have important milestones. A warrior ceremony is one of the most important moments in most cats’ lives.”

“Oh.” Mothfall blinked. “Does this mean I’m your friend?”

“Of course you are, silly.” Dapplecall purred. “Everycat in FunClan is my friend. Here, let me help you.” They picked up the necklace, and Mothfall rose to her paws, watching warily as Dapplecall approached. She lowered her head. As Dapplecall pulled the cord over her neck, she breathed in their scent; they smelled of fish and moss.

After a heartbeat, Dapplecall stepped back, examining their work. She turned and peered over the edge of the bridge into the water, but it was too dark and murky to make out her reflection. “How do I look?” Mothfall asked. She turned to the others, gauging their reactions.

“You look beautiful,” murmured Shortstone, pale eyes glittering.

“It’s very nice,” admitted Flash.

Mothfall pawed at it, craning her neck as she tried to get a better look. “So do I just wear this forever now?” 

“StarClan, no!” purred Dapplecall. “Wouldn’t that be silly?”

“I keep mine in my nest,” Shortstone offered. “Dapplecall gave me some pretty blue and orange river stones. They’re quite striking. It inspired a few of my Clanmates to decorate their own nests, actually.”

“Huh.” Mothfall blinked. “Thanks, Dapplecall. That’s really nice of you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dapplecall purred. “After the tough moon you’ve had, you deserve something nice.”

After that, the cats said their goodbyes. Mothfall licked Dapplecall’s shoulder, warmth flooding her pelt.

Dapplecall nudged her. “Take care of your gift, alright?”

“I will.” Mothfall blinked affectionately at the dappled brown cat. As she started to pad away, she saw Shortstone just ahead. Mothfall bounded forward, calling for her to stop. “Hey!”

The small stone-gray molly turned around, her expression brightening when she saw who it was. “Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” Her whiskers twitched.

Mothfall purred and batted the molly’s side with her paws. “You know what I mean.” She stilled, growing serious. “It’s about Featherflight.”

Shortstone stiffened. “What about him?”

“Is he missing?

Shortstone hesitated, then nodded. “He disappeared right after the gathering.”

Mothfall felt like somecat had driven their claws into her heart.

“What is it?” Shortstone stepped forward, her pale eyes wide with concern. 

“I don’t know.” Mothfall sighed. “I had hoped that… I don’t know. It was silly. Some small part of me had hoped that Smokeheart had run away to WindClan instead of leaving the Clans.”

“So he and Featherflight…?”

“Yes.” Mothfall shook her head. “It was a dumb thought. It wasn’t logical.”

“Love isn’t logical,” Shortstone soothed. She pressed her nose to Mothfall’s cheek. “I’m sorry. This must be hard for you.”

Mothfall dug her white paws into the grass. “Yeah.”

The stone-gray molly looked thoughtful. “Here. I want to give you something.” Shortstone dent down and nipped off a nearby dandelion at the base of its stem. She rested it against Mothfall’s ear, and Mothfall could smell lavender and windswept-earth on her fur. “There. Now you have a gift from me, too. It’s not as fancy as Dapplecall’s, but it’s yours.”

“I love it,” Mothfall mewed, and she meant it.

“I’m glad you do. It looks nice on you, too, I mean. The white petals bring out your muzzle and the flash on your chest.” Shortstone dipped her head. “You should get back to ShadowClan. I’m on dawn patrol, so I need to get going. Until next time, Mothball.”

“Oh, right. Of course. Bye.” Mothfall stepped back, motioning for Shortstone to go ahead. The stone-gray molly whisked her tail over Mothfall’s side as she turned around and bounded down the lake beach towards WindClan.

Mothfall watched her go, and knew that despite everything she and the rest of FunClan had done for her, she would give them up a million times over if it meant getting her brother back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smokeheart's gone! Gasp! (Fun fact, in my original outline Smokeheart was supposed to die, but this character arc fits into the story's theme much better. So, um, you're welcome that I didn't kill our baby Smoke? Hah.) Though poor Moth doesn't seem to be taking the news well. Neither does her sister, for that matter.
> 
> I know Dapplecall making a necklace out of what is essentially leather is pretty far-fetched, but this is a fantasy story about talking cats who have a fantasy religion and fantasy moral code, they can have fantasy leather curing if I want. :P


	12. The Favor

Mothfall crouched by herself, gnawing at a tasteless lizard leg. She had tried to talk to Ferntooth earlier, but her sister had only gazed at her blankly before padding away. Mothfall had stared after her helplessly.

Who was Ferntooth without Smokeheart? Who was _she_ without Smokeheart?

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the sound of approaching pawsteps until a shadow blocked the light. She looked up to find Ratpelt gazing down at her, eyes glittering affectionately. “Having fun, eh?”

“I guess I’m just trying to keep myself occupied.” She pushed the remains of her meal away. “Not with much success.”

“Briarstreak asked me to lead a border patrol tonight. Do you want to come with me? We're overdue for some father-kit bonding.”

“Oh, of course.” Mothfall angled her ears forward. “That sounds great! As long as I get to sleep in in the morning.”

“Of course you will,” mewed Ratpelt evenly. “I’ll see you later tonight, then.”

Mothfall felt like she was vibrating for the rest of the evening. Maybe she’d finally get a chance to talk through some of her thoughts with someone who truly understood her. Her thoughts were more tangled than a thicket. Though Ambereye had assured her that complicated, confusing emotions were normal, she couldn’t help but feel that if anyone could sort her thoughts in a row, it would be her father.

As she crept out of the warriors’ den that night, she hesitated by Ferntooth’s nest. The dark ginger molly was fast asleep, the rise and fall of her chest rhythmically in beat with Troutpath and Beelight piled on top of her. Mothfall reached a paw out, intending to wake her up and ask her to join their patrol. Maybe Ferntooth would benefit from talking with their father, too. But something held her back, and her paw stopped a mouse-length away, as if held back by an invisible force.

What would Smokeheart do, if Mothfall had been the one to leave? He would comfort Ferntooth. Of course, he would. But Mothfall wasn’t her brother.

Mothfall grit her teeth and turned around, padding out of the den. She was surprised to see Ratpelt was the only cat waiting for her in the clearing. “Is it just us?”

“I thought you’d like the opportunity for some time alone together.” Ratpelt’s tail twitched.

“O-of course!” Mothfall stammered. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Then let’s go.” The brown tabby tom rose to his paws and glided over the floor, silent as a ghost. His tail rested on Mothfall’s shoulders, guiding her forward. At the entrance to the camp, Ratpelt nodded to Bravefeather, who was standing guard. The dark brown tom stood up straighter as they passed.

The two of them headed towards the SkyClan border. Mothfall watched the way her father placed his pawsteps, so confidently and so quietly, and wished that she could do the same. The ginger molly no longer tripped and fell, but every now and then she misjudged her distance and knocked her paws against a root, causing her to hiss with pain.

Ratpelt halted in his tracks. Too focused on her smarting paws to realize, Mothfall bumped into his hindquarters. “Why did we stop?” They were deep inside ShadowClan’s territory; Mothfall couldn’t even smell the SlyClan border from here. She angled her ears, but didn’t sense anything unusual. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Ratpelt mewed. He turned to face her, and pressed his paw against hers. “I wanted to talk to you, and see how you were doing.”

“I- I’m fine,” Mothfall mumbled. “I mean, it’s been hard, and I’ve been struggling to work through some stuff…”

“Wonderful,” Ratpelt mewed tartly. “I hope you don’t mind if I ask a favor of you, then?”

“A favor?” she echoed.

“Yes.” Ratpelt tilted his head, his yellow eyes raking over her. “Because we promised we’d do anything for each other. Didn’t we?”

“Well, yes. But I don’t know what it is that you’re asking.”

Ratpelt flattened her ears and scowled. “If you really loved me, that wouldn’t matter.”

"Did Briarstreak even ask us to go on a patrol?"

Ratpelt grunted. "Why would I lie to you?"

Mothfall swallowed, feeling uneasy, though she wasn’t sure why. “Fine. Tell me what it is you want.”

“Good girl.” Ratpelt leaned back, thoughtful. “Tell me about that gray molly you were talking to at the gathering.”

She stiffened. “Who? Shortstone?” Why did her father care about her? Had she done something wrong? 

“Is that her name? Shortstone. Hmm,” he echoed the name as if he were testing it on his tongue. “Yes, that's the one. What’s her deal? Is she currently _attached_ to anycat?” 

Mothfall gaped. “What?”

She remembered the way Shortstone had placed the flower against her ear, and how her breath had smelled like lavender. That dandelion still smelled of Shortstone. Mothfall had hidden it in her nest, alongside Dapplecall’s moth token; she’d worn them both home after her last FunClan meeting, but the camp guard, Meadowstripe, had given her such a strange look that she had immediately stashed them in her nest and hadn’t touched them since.

She shuddered. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Good.” Ratpelt nodded to himself. “I’d like to meet her. Talk to her, get to know her a bit better. You know what I mean?" He leaned in close, body tense with eagerness. "Will you tell her to stay after the next gathering, so that I can talk to her?”

Mothfall stiffened. “What are you talking about?

Ratpelt sniffed. “I think I’ve made myself perfectly clear.”

“You… you want me to set you up with her!”

“If that’s what you want to call it, then yes.” He straightened up, examining her as if wondering if she was stupid. 

“But—but that’s against the code!” Mothfall bristled. “And what about Mom?”

Ratpelt looked at her pityingly. “Oh, little star. Your mother’s dead. But even before she died, I was ready to move on. This is what she would have wanted.”

“What—” Mothfall’s thoughts whirled. There was something she was _missing_ , she was so close to connecting the dots— “With Shortstone? But—”

Wait.

Mothfall looked up. Met her father’s bright yellow eyes.

She knew where she’d seen them before.

“You’re Mousepaw’s father, aren’t you?”

Ratpelt reeled back, lashing his tail and baring his teeth. “I might have sired Mousepaw. But I’m certainly not that scoundrel's _father_. That fool Creekfur cut off all contact when she found out she was pregnant.”

Mothfall tried to count backwards. If Mousepaw had recently been apprenticed, then he would have been born when Mothfall was just over six moons old… “You were courting Creekfur while my littermates and I were still in the nursery!" Her fur bristled, and she unsheathed her claws. "That's disgusting! Was Mom even gone before you started courting her?!”

“Stop saying that, like there’s some chance Wildstep might come back. She’s _d_ _ead_.” Ratpelt corrected her.

“And Pricklepaw…” Mothfall’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh, stars, were you planning to make you were mate, too? Was this all a part of your twisted plan?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I loved Pricklepaw like a daughter,” Ratpelt spat, fur bristling. “She knew about my plans, and she loved me all of the more for them. She was everything I could have asked for in a cat.” He glared at Mothfall. “She wouldn’t have hesitated to help me. If I had told her that I wanted to meet Shortstone, she would already be halfway to WindClan territory right now to let her know.”

“But Pricklepaw wouldn’t—” Mothfall started, dubious, but doubting her own words. “Not if she knew that you had cheated on my _mother_ —She couldn’t have—"

“What do you know about what Pricklepaw would or wouldn’t do?” hissed Ratpelt. “You barely knew her! What your mother and I did doesn’t concern you. In fact, what I did or didn’t do with Creekfur doesn’t concern you, either. We were both consenting warriors. What _does_ concern you is telling Shortstone that I want to court her.”

Mothfall stepped back. The fur along her spine raised. “I won’t do it. I can’t.”

“You can, and you will.” Ratpelt dug his paws into the ground. “Who else stood by your side when you fell behind in your training? Who else coached you to success when your own mentor couldn’t? Who else supported you when your coward of a brother ran away?” Ratpelt's reeth glinted in the darkness. At his full height, he stood taller than Mothfall, and she cowered away from him, trembling. “You _owe_ me. I've devoted moons of my life to making you feel better. And now it’s time for _you_ to make _me_ feel better.”

“Why in StarClan’s name are you doing this?” Mothfall pleaded. She shrank back, tail curling underneath her belly.

“StarClan!” Ratpelt spat like the word was poison on his tongue. “Don’t mention that cursed name to me. StarClan doesn’t care about us. I’ve been questioning StarClan for some years now, Mothfall. Long before you were even a speck in your mother or I’s lives. I’ve seen good cats die while bad cats grew lazy and fat, reaping the spoils of their victims. If StarClan were good, would they allow that? But I had been denying what was right in front of my nose. I had been so eager to believe that StarClan was good, even after everything I saw, because it was easier than facing the truth.” He growled. “But once poor Pricklepaw died, I saw the light. If StarClan were good, they wouldn’t have let Pricklepaw die. They wouldn’t have let your mother abandon me to take care of our kits myself. They wouldn’t have let Smokeheart become a mousehearted deserter!” He growled, and for a moment Mothfall was afraid he would attack. But he stalked away, pacing back and forth and lashing his tail. He dug his claws into the ground as he walked, spraying clumps of pine needles and dirt with every step.

Mothfall tried to protest, but he barreled over her, talking as if she hadn’t said anything. “There’s no cat up there, making sure our good actions outweigh our bad. There are cats who’ve murdered in cold blood living a happy afterlife in StarClan! But at the same time there are cats who have never murdered anycat who were denied entry! StarClan doesn’t care about us. They never did. Any fool can get into StarClan, because our choices in this life don’t matter. So I,” he glared, “Am going to do something for _me_ for once, because StarClan doesn’t care enough to help me themselves. And _you_ are going to help me do it.”

Mothfall trembled, but she pulled herself to her full height and looked her father in the eye. “I won’t. I don’t care what you think of me. I won’t do it.”

Ratpelt snarled. “Then I’ll make your life so horrible, you’ll wish you were never born.”

He melted into the shadows. Mothfall watched him go, helpless to do anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratpelt be like: *performs a whole-ass villain monologue* I'm not a villain though. not because I'm not a selfish asshole, but because morality doesn't exist. 
> 
> Wowee! This is a short chapter, but a real doozy! I felt that keeping it short gave what few words there were a larger impact. 
> 
> this religious conflict developed completely of its own accord, but it's been really fun to work within the frame of what we know about StarClan in canon and actually have its flaws be seen as, you know, problematic. ratpelt had all of the right evidence, but he twisted it to fit his own corrupt conclusions.
> 
> Enjoy!


	13. The Truth

Mothfall always had plenty of space to spread out in the warriors’ den, now. Every night, she cradled Dapplecall’s moth token and Shortstone’s flower close to chest. It made the nights past faster. It made her paws hurt less, too. She couldn’t prove it, but she knew it was true.

Her meetings with FunClan were the only thing she looked forward to anymore. It was the only place she could escape the gaze of her Clanmates, and her periodic swim in the lake released her pain's hold on her for a glorious short while. Afterwards, all of FunClan piled on top of each other, keeping her warm as her long fur dried off.

Unfortunately, today was not one of their half-moon gatherings. As Mothfall padded into camp, trailing behind the rest of her patrol, she ducked her head so she wouldn’t have to face the glances and glares of her Clanmates. Acorntuft glanced her way as she dropped her catch in the freshkill pile, like he wanted to say something, then shook his head and padded away. Mothfall watched him and the others disperse, unsure where to go.

Out of the corner of her vision, Ratpelt sneaked out of the elders’ den. She narrowed her eyes as the wiry brown tom strutted over, head held high. “Well well well, little star.” He circled around her before stopping at her side, close enough that their fur brushed. “It looks like you’re all alone. Again.”

“I’m used to being alone,” Mothfall grunted. She stepped away, taking a deep breath, focusing on keeping her fur flat.

“It’s not too late, you know.” His smooth meow, normally so soothing, made her fur crawl. He leaned into her ear, speaking so low that no cat else could hear. “If you apologize and promise to help me, all of these rumors will just… disappear.”

She glanced at the cats scattered around camp. Heavysong turned away when he caught her looking. He whispered something to Beechtail, who rolled her eyes. When she saw Mothfall watching, she scowled and rose to her paws. Heavysong followed her into the warriors’ den.

She wondered which rumor they were talking about this time. Maybe it was the one she had supposedly told to her sister, Ferntooth, that she had thought Heavysong’s name was mousebrained.

Meanwhile, on the other side of camp, Ferntooth was sharing tongues with her mates, Troutpath and Beelight, along with their respective littermates, Specklefur and Seedshade. Every time she came within two tail-lengths of her sister, the others stood in between them and made excuses about why Ferntooth wouldn’t talk to her. 

Ratpelt followed her gaze, tail tip ticking back and forth. “So?” He mewed. “Will you help me, or not?”

Mothfall dug her paws into the ground. “This is blackmail.”

“So? It’s not like that’s against your precious _warrior code_ ,” Ratpelt spat. As he stalked away, the only sign of his frustration as he joined Briarstreak was his ticking tail. The deputy purred in greeting as he arrived, and he sat down in between her and Grasseyes. He said something that Mothfall was too far away to hear, and Grasseyes snorted in amusement.

Mothfall sighed. She selected a lizard from the freshkill pile and found a quiet place by herself. The rumors Ratelt had been quietly spreading behind her back weren’t helped by the fact that the bitter Leaf-bare cold had prevented her from performing her warrior duties. Ambereye had given her permission to take it easy, but she was sure her supposed luxurious lounging around hadn’t improved her status in the eyes of her Clanmates. Now that it was New-leaf, she had thrown herself back into patrols, eager to help out and hopefully prove the rumors wrong. 

She ate her food quietly, lost in thought. She barely noticed when the apprentices tumbled by until she went to take a bite of her lizard and ended up with a mouth full of dust. She purred as she saw Tawnykit tumble by, wrestling a squealing Oakpaw to the ground. “I win!” she yowled, bouncing back and puffing her chest out proudly.

The reddish-brown tom rolled to his paws, shaking the dust out of his fur and scowling. “That’s no fair. You’re almost twice my size.”

“Really?” Tawnypaw’s brown eyes flashed with annoyance. “I bet you a quarter moon of removing the elders’ ticks and fleas I can take on you and Mudpaw at the same time, and still win.”

“Really?” Mudpaw scampered over, waving her tortoiseshell tail in excitement.

“Of course.” She crouched low, waggling her haunches.

Forgetting herself, Mothfall purred at the sight of the apprentices tussling. They reminded her of herself and her own littermats. “I could give you some pointers, if you wanted. For starters, you should keep your tail down when you’re fighting, Mudpaw. If you stick it up like that, the wind resistance will drag you down.”

The three apprentices turned and gaped at her. They looked so fierce that Mothfall snapped her mouth shut. Eventually, Tawnypaw flattened her ears. “Seedshade told me that Snailwhisper asked to use the sunning rock after you didn’t want to end your turn, so you hid thorns in his nest.”

“Oh, yeah?” Oakpaw challenged. “Bravefeather told _me_ that Briarstreak was trying to help you after you were struggling in your warrior training, and you called her stupid. To her face.”

Mothfall glanced at Mudpaw. “And did your mentor say anything about me?”

The dark tortoiseshell molly shuffled her paws. “Some stuff,” she muttered.

Mothfall lowered her gaze. What could she say in her defense? She couldn’t tell them it wasn’t true without explaining where the rumor had really come from. And as stupid as it seemed, she couldn’t bring herself to rat out her father. He had still done more for her than most cats, and without his encouragement, she might not have ever become a warrior.

She couldn’t betray him like that.

After a tense heartbeat, Tawnypaw scoffed. “Whatever. Come on, let’s go play somewhere else.” She bounded away, and Oakpaw and Mudpaw followed close behind, glancing over their shoulders as they left.

* * *

“You seem to be struggling with your exercises today, Mothfall." Concern flickered in Ambereye’s gaze as he watched her struggle to stretch her paws out in front of her as far as she could. “Are you okay? You’ve been distant lately.”

“I’m fine,” Mothfall growled.

Ambereye considered her, then flicked his ear. “You know you can always talk to me if you need anything.”

“Yeah.” Mothfall eyed him, not saying anything more.

Ambereye sighed. “Stars, I wish I could force cats to talk to me. I promise it would make you feel better. But if you don't want to tell me, I won’t pry.”

“Fine. There’s nothing to tell, anyways.”

“That’s what I was afraid you’d say.” Ambereye tucked his tail around his paws and gazed around the camp. A few cats were milling around the Pinebranch, waiting; Berrystar had hinted at an important meeting later today, and cats were eager to see what it was about. It couldn’t be a warrior ceremony; the apprentices were still much too young, though Tawnypaw was getting closer to her assessment every day.

Maybe one of the senior warriors was retiring? She noticed Grasseyes nuzzle his mate, Willowgaze. The elder grinned and shook his head, but leaned against the senior warrior. Their tails twined together as they waited for Berrystar to announce the meeting.

Ambereye cleared his throat. “I’ve heard the rumors spreading around camp. And so, I’m sure, have you.”

Mothfall grunted. She sat up, shaking out her paw. Stupid exercise. Stupid rumors.

“Are they true?” Ambereye asked softly.

Mothfall swallowed. “Yes.”

Her heart twisted; she hated to lie to one of the only cats who had supported her since she was an apprentice. But the other option was revealing that Ratpelt had lied. And he was right, he _had_ done so much for her, and she _had_ promised to do anything for him.

Maybe he was right to be angry with her. Or maybe keeping the secret was a test, and if she could prove she’d do this for him, he’d stop punishing her.

(Another, deeper part of her was afraid of what Ratpelt would do if he found out she had spoken out against him.)

Ambereye sighed and shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Mothfall.”

Mothfall didn’t watch as he padded away. She couldn’t risk seeing the sadness in his gaze.

She heard cats starting to murmur in excitement; Berrystar had exited her den. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Pinebranch for a Clan meeting,” she called.

Most of the cats had already gathered. Tawnypaw bounded forward, pushing Mudpaw to the side and puffing her chest out. Seedshade pinned her tail to the ground, shaking her head, and Tawnypaw deflated before sitting down next to her mentor. Despite herself, Mothfall purred in amusement. Had Tawnypaw really thought this would be her warrior ceremony?

Behind her, the medicine den rustled; Frogjump sat down next to Mothfall, right outside the entrance. She glanced at Mothfall, then grunted and turned her gaze back to Berrystar. At least Frogjump was acting like her usual self, even if her usual self was snooty and aloof.

Berrystar waited until the gathered cats were silent before speaking. “Cats of ShadowClan, I am very excited to do a ceremony that I have not had the honor to perform before. I have convened with our elders in order to learn what to do, and I hope to share their knowledge with you today. Troutpath, step forward, please.”

The dark tortoiseshell stepped up to face Berrystar, trembling, but not afraid. Berrystar nodded to Troutpath, and addressed the gathered cats. “Many cats do not know who they are or what their journey will be when they are born. Some cats, however, have harder journeys than others.”

Mothfall tilted her head, curious.

“I, Berrystar of ShadowClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this warrior. When I first welcomed this cat into the Clan as a warrior, I mistakenly welcomed them into our ranks as a molly. Troutpath, you have thought long and hard about who you are. Are you ready to be welcomed into the Clan properly?”

“I am.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I reinstate your warrior status. Troutpath, from this moment you will be known only as a tom. StarClan honors your dedication and bravery, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan.”

Ferntooth leapt to her paws. “Troutpath! Troutpath!” She called out. Beelight stood up, joining in the chant, and soon the rest of the Clan joined in, chanting the new tom’s name. Troutpath beamed back, eyes glistening with pride as he curled his tail over his back in delight.

Mothfall glanced at Frogjump. She had heard that Frogjump had been presumed a tom when she had been first born, but had been quick to correct her parents -– and anycat else -- when they had addressed her. “Did you know this was going to happen?”

Frogjump eyed her. “Who do you think told him to ask about the ceremony?”

“I don’t remember _you_ having this ceremony.”

Frogjump grunted. “I knew I was a molly long before my apprentice ceremony, so I had been seen as a molly from the start. Troutpath took longer to figure it out, so he had been incorrectly introduced to StarClan. This ceremony corrects that mistake.”

“Huh. Neat.”

“Uh huh.” Flicking her ear dismissively, Frogjump rose to her paws and meandered away, towards Ambereye, who had been watching from the back, next to Shiningeyes and Russetnose.

Mothfall took a deep breath before padding towards Troutpath, who was crowded by his Clanmates. Troutpath practically glowed with happiness. His mother, Beechtail, stepped forward to nuzzle him, her eyes shining with pride. “My _son_ ,” she mewed thickly, her voice choked up with emotion.

Mothfall approached Ferntooth, who was standing next to Troutpath as she gazed at him with love and affection. “Hey,” she mewed.

The dark ginger molly whipped around to stare at her. Mothfall winced and shrank back. “I just wanted to say congratulations,” she mewed.

Ferntooth stared blankly. “Oh. Hey.”

Mothfall shuffled her paws, unsure of what to say. In truth, she hadn’t expected to get this far. She had half-expected Ferntooth to hiss at her to go away. After a heartbeat, Specklefur stepped in between the two, wrapping his tail around Ferntooth’s shoulders. “Let’s go, Fern,” he murmured, guiding her away. More cats filled in to take her place, and Mothfall allowed herself to be pushed away from Troutpath, towards the back of the crowd.

* * *

Mothfall lifted her chin as she padded after the border patrol. Shortleg limped behind her as the camp came into view, puffing as they fought to keep up with the rest of the patrol. Instinctively, Mothfall slowed down to match their pace. As they came nose-to-nose, Shortleg glanced at her before loping to catch up to the rest of the patrol.

The other warriors, she could understand. Stars, she could even understand Ferntooth, who seemed to blame her for Smokeheart’s betrayal. But Shortleg? Her own mentor? She watched them go, careful not to let any cat see her despair.

She had to keep on doing what she was doing. If she kept her head down and did her work without complaining, her Clanmates had to see that she had their best interests at heart. _If I need to life, breathe, and sweat Clan loyalty, so be it._

As they entered the camp, Mothfall skirted along the edges, heading straight towards the apprentices’ den. As the den with the fewest casts, besides the medicine and leader’s dens, it was the quietest section of camp.

New-leaf was warming up quick, and though she was grateful that the weather didn’t exacerbate her disorder the same way Leaf-bare had, her thick, furry pelt didn’t mix well with the rapidly warming temperatures. She puffed, kicking her legs out behind her so she could press her belly to the earth to cool down quicker.

She closed her eyes, resting her chin on her paws. The sounds of camp jabbed at her ears, but they all blended together in a static background hum, and no one thing stood out to distract her. She’d get up in a heartbeat and grab something to eat.

As soon as she cooled down. As soon as the world stopped spinning and convulsing underneath her.

When she opened her eyes, the sun had moved through the sky, casting shadows into camp. Mothfall growled to herself; she had wanted to go on another patrol before sunset, but it looks like she had lost her opportunity.

The camp was quieted down; most of her Clanmates must be on patrol or out of camp, enjoying the unusually warm weather, so it wasn’t hard to hear the approaching pawsteps of the apprentices. Tawnypaw lead the way, with Mudpaw and Oakpaw peaking out on either side of her, eyes wide and afraid– no, no afraid. Curious.

Tawnypaw held a mouse in her jaws, and she dropped it at Mothfall’s feet. “Oh good, you’re awake.”

“You were so still, I thought you were dead,” mewed Oakpaw, creeping closer.

“Uh, no, I’m still alive,” Mothfall mewed, because she wasn’t sure what else to say. She pawed at the mouse, pulling it close. “Thanks.”

Tawnypaw shrugged. “I figured that even if all of those horrible things cats are saying about you are true, you haven’t been kicked out yet, which means you’re still a Clanmate. And that means we have to look out for you.”

“Gee, thanks,” mewed Mothfall, not sure what to make of the apprentice’s lukewarm appraisal.

“Plus, Ambereye told us to bring this to you,” Mudpaw chirped.

Mothfall glanced at the medicine den; sure enough, the golden-brown medicine cat was sitting outside of the entrance. When he caught her eye, he nodded and slipped back inside his den. “He’s a good cat.”

“He’s weird. He’s always staring at us,” Oakpaw complained.

“He just wants to make sure your training is going okay. You should talk to him sometime. He’s very helpful.”

Oakpaw frowned. “If he was really helpful, maybe he would’ve told you not to do all of the bad things you’ve done.”

“That’s on me, not him.” Mothfall flicked her ear. “Don't blame him for my mistakes.”

“I guess.”

Tawnypaw looked Mothfall up and down, her amber eyes dark with suspicion. “Well, this was fun. Our mentors told us we have to clean out the elders’ den, so we better get going.”

“Wait.” Mothfall struggled to her paws. “I can help you, if you want.”

Tawnypaw eyed her. “Why?”

“Because the elders are an important part of this Clan, and taking care of them is an honor.”

Tawypaw’s sandy-colored tail flicked back and forth. “Don’t talk big. Why do you really want to help?”

Mothfall sighed. “Because I can’t protest against the things cats are saying about me. But maybe if my Clanmates saw that the apprentices and elders, our most vulnerable Clanmates, trust me to help out, then they’ll forgive me for whatever they thought I did in the past.”

The three apprentices considered this for a moment. Tawnypaw’s whiskers twitched.

“That’s stupid,” Mudpaw meowed at last. The others nodded, and Oakpaw murmured his agreement.

“You can think it’s stupid. You don’t have to like me, or even trust me. But I’ll still help with your apprentice duties.”

The three share a glance. “Alright,” Tawnypaw announced. “But only if you agree to deal with Snailwhisper. He’s _impossible_ to deal with.”

Rolling to her paws to follow the apprentices, Mothfall purred. “That seems like a fair compromise.”

* * *

Mothfall trailed the back of the patrol as they headed deeper into ShadowClan territory. Several moons had passed, and the air was thick and heavy with Green-leaf pollen. 

The rumors hadn't gotten any worse, thank StarClan, but they hadn't gotten any better, either. Briarstreak had tried to talk to her in private the other day, presumably to ask her what in StarClan was going on, but Mothfall had hissed at her until she left. She was surprised that she had been allowed to go the gathering after that. 

(The irony that a cat that lied to her Clanmates was held in better esteem by Berrystar than a cat that tripped did not escape her.)

The gathering had been largely uneventful; despite all of the turmoil in Mothfall's personal life, tensions between the Clans had never been lower. The weather was warm, prey was running well, and every Clan had kittens to spare. 

Mothfall's itching nose dragged her mind back to the present, and she prayed she wouldn’t sneeze. She couldn’t risk ruining the careful repairs she had done to her reputation by alerting the entire forest to their presence. She paused to rub at her nose with her paw, sighing when the itch disappeared. Up ahead, Oakpaw’s ears turned in her direction before he looked back at her; he must have guessed what had happened. Mothfall winked, and the barest flicker of a grin appeared on his face before he cried out. the reddish-brown tom stumbled forward, snubbing his face into the ground.

Mothfall rushed over to help, but Bravefeather got there first, hauling on the young cat’s scruff and pulling him up.

“Thanks,” Oakpaw mewed to his mentor, ears reddening with embarrassment. He had been an apprentice for several moons now, though he was still smaller than his muscular mentor. That didn’t mean much – Bravefeather took after his mother Briarstreak, with broad shoulders and strong legs. Though Oakpaw looked tiny in comparison, that didn't mean he was small compared to most other cats.

Up ahead, Birdsong had stopped when they heard Oakpaw trip, and their tail ticked nervously. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Zaza,” Oakpaw insisted, whiskers twitching.

Birdsong examined their son by weaving around him before nodding. The small tortoiseshell-and-white cat turned to address the others. “Since we’re already stopped, we might as well split up for hunting. Bravefeather and Oakpaw, you go this way,” they waved in one direction with their tail, “And I’ll go in that way with Smallheart. Mothfall, you go over there.”

Mothfall nodded stiffly, not surprised to be the cat left to her own devices. However, as the cats started to disperse, Oakpaw hung back, “Um, Bravefeather? Can I talk to Mothfall really quick?”

Mothfall froze in her tracks. She stared at the reddish-brown tom. What did he want? She had been helping the apprentices with their duties, and he had acted friendly enough to her earlier. But truth be told, she had been under the impression that they only accepted her help because an extra set of paws lightened the load.

Bravefeather scowled, flicking his apprentice’s side with his tail. “Can’t it wait? You’re supposed to be training to become a warrior, not gossiping.”

Oakpaw bristled. “It’s not gossip! I have an important question.”

“Oakpaw, whatever you think Mothfall did, you can ask about it later.”

“It’s _important_. And relevant to my training.”

Bravefeather rolled his eyes. “Fine. But be fast.” The brown tabby stalked away, tail ticking in frustration as he disappeared deeper into the forest.

Once they were alone, Oakpaw turned towards Mothfall, shuffling his paws awkwardly. She sat down and wrapped her tails around her paws, unsure what to say. Was she supposed to start the conversation, as the older cat? What was she supposed to say, when she didn’t know what Oakpaw wanted to talk to her about?

The reddish-brown tom squirmed where he stood, apparently just as uncertain as her. When he finally spoke, he blurted his words so quickly that Mothfall wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. “How did you know that you had a coordination disorder?”

If she had been asked to list the topics she thought Oakpaw would want to talk to her about, this one wouldn't have even been on the list, it was so inconceivable. “I mean, Ambereye told me.”

“Yeah, but how did you first know something was wrong to ask him?”

“Um.” Mothfall thought back to her first days as an apprentice, “I was always clumsier than my littermates, even when I was a kit. I kept stumbling, and it took me ages before I caught my first prey. Plus, I had issues concentrating… I couldn’t focus on certain sounds, or I’d be too focused and unable to stop, even if I wanted to.”

Oakpaw nodded, brow furrowing as he took in her words. “’Cause I’ve been having issues focusing lately, and I keep tripping and losing my balance. Do I have your problem?”

Mothfall tilted her head, examining him. “How long has this been an issue?”

“It’s been happening ever since the gathering.” Oakpaw frowned. “I was so excited to go, and now look at me. I couldn’t even walk across the territory without getting hurt,” he held out his paw, which Mothfall saw was scratched and raw from when he had tripped. “Is this the end for me? Have I already peaked, and now my body is stuck in a slow, debilitating decline?”

“What? No, of course not.” Mothfall stepped closer, sniffing the young tom. He stared at her warily, eyes shining with distrust.

No, not distrust.

Mothfall’s eyes widened. She sniffed again, and yes, there it was, the sweet stench of sickness. That wasn’t distrust in his eyes, it was fever. “Give me your pawpad again.” She grabbed it before the tom could protest and pressed her nose to it – and yes, it burned with heat.

She was no medicine cat, but she had heard Ambereye quizzing his apprentice more than enough times to recognize the symptoms of Greencough when she saw it. She prayed she was making it up, but the way her stomach twisted told her that she was right.

“When was the last time you are or drank anything?” she demanded.

Oakpaw shrugged. “Last night, I think. Maybe earlier. I haven’t been hungry.”

So he was dehydrated. That would only make the fever’s symptoms seem worse. Her heart lifted; maybe he wasn’t as sick as he appeared after all. Maybe with some water and some rest, he’d be okay.

Still, her gut cautioned her against getting her hopes up. “You need to see Ambereye,” she insisted. “Now.”

“But what about Bravefeather? What about hunting?” Oakpaw protested.

Mothfall shook her head. “We’ll send somecat to find him and let him know later. Right now, our number one priority is getting you back to camp so our medicine cats can take care of you.”

Oakpaw mewled in protest, so she wound around his side and pushed him forward from behind. He staggered forward. The push seemed to do the trick, and he slogged forward, head held low to the ground.

Mothfall was wary of touching him too much – what if she got sick, too? But her fur spiked with alarm as time he stumbled, and she rushed forward to be his support. His fur burned at the touch. She shuddered to think of how long he had been hiding his condition. How many cats had he infected in his carelessness?

They finally stumbled into camp, and Mothfall had barely called for help before Frogjump appeared at her side. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Oakpaw, who was leaning against Mothfall so much that she was afraid he’d fall if she stepped away. “I’ll take it from here. You should go clean yourself up so you don’t get sick. Don’t even think about licking yourself until you’ve taken a swim.”

Mothfall snapped her jaws shut and nodded mutely. She tapped her paw against the ground as she watched Oakpaw limp to the medicine den. She prayed that the reason he looked so small was because, like Bravefeather, Frogjump had inherited her mother’s size, and not because Oakpaw was already too far gone to save.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shakes fist at ratpelt* boo!
> 
> here's a long chapter, to make up for monday's short chapter. so much is happening now! :o We're officially over the halfway point, too! I finished writing everything over the weekend (still need lots of revisions, but yay for completion!) and I'm currently clocking in at 19 chapters plus an epilogue. That may change, not because of adding scenes as much as moving things around, but it'll be around there, give or take.
> 
> this chapter has some fun worldbuilding as well. the gender affirmation ceremony is of my own design, but if anyone is reading this and is inspired by it, feel free to use it for your own writing! I only ask that you link your work to me so that I can read it c:
> 
> also, terminology; zaza = neutral title for mom/dad


	14. The Contagion

After Oakpaw, cats dropped like flies. Every morning Mothfall woke up to raucous coughs, and another cat would stagger to the medicine den. The medicine den wasn’t big enough to hold more than a patient or two, so for the time being Mudpaw and Tawnypaw moved into the elders’ den while the sick cats remained quarantined in the apprentices’-turned-sick den.

Mothfall dreaded waking up with a sore throat, but so far, she’s been saved from that dreadful fate. She hoped that her moons hanging around the medicine den have drilled proper hygiene habits into her brain.

Mothfall paced outside of the makeshift sick den, tail lashing back and forth anxiously. Inside the den, she could see Beelight hovering over her sister, Seedshade. The brown-gray molly stroked her sister’s side with a trembling paw. Ferntooth, Specklefur, and Troutpath had tried to keep watch over her, too, but Frogjump had chased them away, insisting no healthy cats were allowed within three tail-lengths of the den. Mothfall didn’t know where they were now. Probably on a patrol, hoping to distract themselves. Though Specklefur wasn’t related to Seedshade or Beelight, he was as close to them as if they were his own littermates, and Mothfall knew he felt their absence just as much as Ferntooth and Troutpath. 

She could see Birdsong on the other side of the entrance, their eyes dull and glazed as they stared with disinterest at the world outside the den. Beside them, Oakpaw propped his head up on their parent’s shoulders. On the other side of camp, Weedwhisker stared longingly after his mate and kit, tail lashing back and forth. His friends Meadowstripe and Rapidfoot stood on either side of him, as much to comfort him as to hold him back. As they talked together in hushed tones, Meadowstripe’s tail curled around his pregnant belly. Mothfall could read the worry in his gaze loud and clear. What if his kits were born into this pandemic? How would they stay safe?

That morning, Briarstreak had hobbled to the medicine den, tail dragging in the dirt as she hobbled forward. Halfway to the den, she had coughed so hard she almost fell over. Puddlespots had rushed over to help her, and now he crouched behind the warriors’ den, eyes blank and haunted, as if he was counting down the heartbeats before he, too, started to show symptoms of infection.

She couldn’t see the other cats inside the sick den, but she could feel their absence in camp as clearly as day: Acorntuft, Grasseyes, Shiningeyes and Willowgaze.

Mothfall growled. How was this fair? How did StarClan allow this to happen? She could hear Ratpelt’s silky meow, as clearly as if he stood had spoken out loud: _I told you so._

But if she _could_ do more to help, wasn’t she morally obligated to help them? Mothfall glanced upwards, wondering if her ancestors would tell her what to do. But they were as silent as ever. Not even a breath of wind shook the trees overhead.

Mothfall snorted. _Looks like it’s up to me to decide. As usual._

So far, helping out with the chores no cat else enjoyed seemed to be working; though her Clanmates hadn’t warmed up to her, they hadn’t kicked her out, and she was still allowed to sleep in the warriors’ den every night. But if she misstepped, she risked harming her reputation beyond the point of repair.

She also knew that her Clanmates were dying.

Mothfall shook out her pelt, brushing the doubts from her mind, and marched over to the medicine den. She may not be a medicine cat, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help her Clan. Maybe she could gather water-soaked mossballs for the sick cats to drink from, or lead a patrol to look for more catmint. StarClan knew that whatever supply they had must be running low by now.

Heated whispers from inside the medicine den paused Mothfall in her tracks. She crouched down, angling her ears towards the entrance to hear better.

“You can’t keep walking around camp like this, Frogjump. You’ll infect half the Clan!”

The deep baritone of Frogjump’s mew sliced the air. “Half the Clan is _already_ infected. Who cares? I can still help take care of the cats that are sick.”

“You need to rest.”

“And then who will help you take care of the Clan? With so many warriors and our own deputy down, we’re stretched thin as we are.”

Mothfall cleared her throat as she stepped inside the entrance. Ambereye and Frogjump were facing each other, and Frogjump’s black fur, usually sleek and shiny, was bristling in dull, ragged clumps. They both turned to stare at her; Mothfall stiffened when she saw how dazed and glassy Frogjump’s normally vibrant green eyes had become.

She cleared her throat again before mewing, “Um, maybe I can help. I already know a lot of herbs because I’ve spent so much time in the medicine den. I was actually coming offer to help, anyways, since I thought I could help gather herbs or something… But I could take care of the sick cats, too. I’ve seen you do it enough times, and I’m a quick learner.”

Frogjump grunted, unimpressed. “You’re not exactly skilled in the art of healing, Mothfall. You're only a warrior, after all.”

“I wouldn’t be so harsh to judge,” Ambereye mewed slowly. “Mothfall’s right, she does know more about medicine cat duties than most warriors, and it would get you off of your paws. I need you to rest so you can get better!” Ambereye fixed his apprentice with a stern glare.

Frogjump sighed. “Alright, fine. But don’t act surprised when cats refuse to be treated by her.”

“Why? Because she’s inexperienced? You were too, at one point, and that never bothered anycat.” Ambereye flicked his tail against his apprentice’s side.

“Because half of the Clan believes she has a personal vendetta against them, and the other half are angry that she’s targeted their Clanmates.” Frogjump rolled her eyes, breaking off as her body shook with a cough. “At this point, whether or not any of it’s true hardly matters. Cats _think_ it’s true, and they don’t trust her any farther than they can throw her.”

Mothfall leapt out of the way as the black molly shuffled out of the medicine den and towards the sick den. She glanced at Ambereye, who shrugged helplessly. “I can’t complain,” he mewed. “And if these cats know what’s good for them, neither will they. Come on, I’ll show you what you need to know.”

* * *

“He has to drink something,” Mothfall growled. She rolled the water-soaked mossball under her paw, fighting to keep her fur flat as she talked down Birdsong.

The tortoiseshell-and-white cat stood over their kit, eyes flashing in the darkness. “I agree. So _I’ll_ give him the water.”

“It’s really best to limit contamination if only one cat touches the mossball,” Mothfall protested.

“It’s really best for my kit if you don’t toucher him at all,” Birdsong snapped. “I can’t imagine why you’d want to help him. You think he’s a dunce, destined to retire to the elders’ den without ever living a life of a warrior.”

Mothfall grunted. This one was new to her. “Why in StarClan’s name would I say that?”

“You’re the one who said it, not me,” spat Birdsong. They pulled their kit close, who coughed weakly and curled into their touch, too sick to be aware of what was going on. “Just because he’s slow to learn doesn’t mean that he’s useless. _You_ took a long time to become a warrior. If anycat should be sympathetic to his plight, it’s you.”

“You would think so, huh?” Mothfall resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Birdsong curled around Oakpaw. “You took forever to become a warrior, against the advice of your own leader and deputy, and now you’re taunting them by acting as a medicine cat anyways.”

How did the Clan find out about that conversation, anyways? She could have sworn they were past earshot of the camp. Apparently some cats, like those with large ears and glittering yellow eyes, liked to poke their nose where it doesn’t belong. “So are you angry about the things I said to your kit, or that I’m pretending to be a medicine cat?”

Birdsong flattened her ears. “Why can’t it be both?”

Mothfall growled. “Fine. If you want to be his sole caretaker, be my guest.” She swatted the mossball in Birdsong’s direction and stalked out of the den. Her fur prickled, and her paws ached from spending all night on her feet.

She could gather mossballs and shred herbs into poultices all day long, and her Clanmates wouldn’t so much as blink in her direction.

She and Ambereye had opposite shifts; she worked nights while he worked days. This worked well for Mothfall, because it meant she didn’t have to deal with as many of her non-sick Clanmates; those that didn’t sleep at night were usually out roaming the territory, either on patrol or enjoying the warm, non-sick infested, Green-leaf air. It also meant that Ambereye couldn’t see how much she was struggling and demote her back to her warrior duties.

Mothfall took a deep breath as the clean night air brushed her face. She closed her eyes, trying to collect herself. So far, Frogjump had been the only cat she could convince to take her medication without fighting. She didn’t know if that was because she still trusted Mothfall, or if she trusted medicine. Either way, the huge black molly was too far gone most days to argue on her behalf to the other sick cats.

She sighed and gazed up at the stars overhead. Not for the first time, she wondered if she should have left with Smokeheart when she had the chance. If she had, she wouldn’t have to deal with the lies, or the loneliness.

But even as she thought it, her stomach twisted. Despite her hardship, her family was here. This was where she belonged.

Right?

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Ratpelt’s silky smooth voice made Mothfall’s fur crawl. She scowled as the wiry tom approached, eyes glittering.

“What’s wrong, little star?” he purred. “Your Clanmates don’t want to listen to you?” He sat down next to her and wrapped his tail around her haunches. “You just want what’s best for them; why can’t they see reason?”

Mothfall watched silently, not trusting herself to speak.

Ratpelt’s eyes grew wide, and he blinked innocently. “Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you started telling everycat all of these horrible things!” His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in closed. “And maybe you should have thought about that before you betrayed me,” he hissed, so quietly she could barely hear. “My offer still stands.”

When Mothfall didn’t respond, he rose to his paws, hitting her in the face with his tail as he left. Mothfall bit her tongue so she wouldn’t say anything rash.

Was he right? Was her reputation so tarnished that no cat would trust her now? Even Tawnypaw and Mudpaw, who had just a few days ago been eager for her help with their apprentice tasks, now glared as she approached.

She heard Mudpaw fake whisper that it was Mothfall’s fault that Oakpaw was so sick.

She couldn’t argue. It was true that Birdsong refused to let Mothfall treat him, only to panic as his health declined further. But would that happen at all if Ratpelt hadn’t started spreading rumors?

She sighed and rose to her paws. There was no point in worrying over what-ifs. Right now, her Clan needed her. She pressed back into the sick den, ready to wrestle yet another cat into accepting her help.

* * *

Mothfall winced as she hobbled through the forest. Though she couldn’t see it overhead, the half-moon rose above the lake. The longer she took, the later she’d be. But her legs ached and her ability to focus had been worn down from days of quietly putting her head down and toughing out pointed whispers and hateful glares when others thought she wasn’t looking.

Now that she was Ambereye’s helper, her workload had doubled. Not to mention that it took her twice as long to do anything than it did Ambereye because cats kept refusing her help. She was technically still on duty, but this was important. Besides, it would be a short visit. Best case scenario, she would get in, say what she needed to say, and leave. Worst case scenario… well, she wouldn’t be allowed to stay for very long, anyways.

For the first time ever, she wasn’t looking forward to a FunClan gathering.

She winced as she stubbed her paw against a rock. She shook her paw out, hopping on three legs and cursing. “Stupid rock. Stupid disorder.” She thudded to the ground and licked her paw; as she ran her paw over her pawpad, the tangy taste of blood leaked onto her mouth. Maybe this was a sign that what she was doing was wrong. Maybe she should head home and argue WIllowgaze into accepting her water-soaked mossball.

“Mothfall?”

The ginger molly jerked her head up, narrowing her eyes as she watched a small, dark figure creep closer. Now that she was paying attention, she saw that they didn’t move with the silent grace of a ShadowClan cat. She should’ve been able to hear them. But the leaves shook the pine boughs overhead, and an owl hooted, and something ran across the ground nearby, and she couldn’t make out anything as the cat padded closer. She wrapped her tail around herself, braced for the worst.

She blinked as the cat stepped close enough that she could make out her face. “Shortstone?”

The stone-gray molly purred and rubbed her face against Mothfall’s. “Heya, Mothball. I’m glad I found you before some other cat found _me._ ”

Mothfall leaned into Shortstone’s touch. She tilted her head as the molly pulled away. “What are you doing here?”

Shortstone blinked. “Looking for you. when you didn’t show up, I got worried. I remembered how you had all of those problems moving around over Leaf-bare. I wanted to make sure you weren’t stranded in a ditch with your paws falling off.”

Mothfall twitched her whiskers in amusement. “Luckily for you, I’m not quite that broken. I don’t think you’re big enough to carry me out of a ditch.”

“Probably not.”

Mothfall grunted and slid to the ground, spreading her forelegs out in front of her. “Well, thanks for finding me. You should go back to the others now. I’m not going to the gathering tonight. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on all of the fun on my account.”

“I don’t mind sitting with you while you regain your strength,” Shortstone mewed.

Mothfall snorted. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Fine. Then I’ll sit with you until you go back to camp.”

Mothfall huffed, but readjusted her position so that Shortstone had space to press up against her. She fell into a comfortable position, as they always did. This was almost like a blessing from StarClan, giving her a sign that what she had wanted to do was the right thing.

She knew she should tell Shortstone to pass on her message and leave, but as the stone-gray molly nestled into her side, she couldn’t find the strength. _A quick break won’t do me any harm, she told herself._

“What are you looking at with those big green eyes of yours?” Shortstone purred and batted at Mothfall’s ears.

The ginger molly looked away, ears burning. “I was just wondering how you ended up in FunClan. Because Smokeheart was right when he told me I didn’t fit in, even though I didn’t believe him at the time.” Would the Clan have turned against her so easily if she _had_ fit in? “And neither do any of the other FunClan cats, really. Where else could Dapplecall and Martysplash and the others be, well, you know, them? But you seem so normal.”

“Really?” Shortstone sounded amused. “What about Creekfur? She seems pretty normal to me.”

 _She was ostracized by her Clan enough that she fell for Ratpelt,_ Mothfall thought, but instead she meowed, “C’mon, tell me. Call it our FunClan sharing night, but without FunClan. Tell me about how you joined FunClan.”

The playful glitter drained from Shortstone's pale eyes as she grew quiet. “Is that really what you want to know?”

Mothfall angled her ears forward. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just disappointing, that’s all.” She laughed to herself. “There’s no grand narrative about how my Clan hates me. That’s not it at all. I just… came out a little sideways.”

“Sideways?”

“Yeah. You know, like if most of my Clanmates looked at things from one angle, I was always just ever so slightly off. Not enough to be bullied, but enough to be noticed. When I was an apprentice, I stared into space or cloud watched, and when my Clanmates were having competitions to see who could race the fastest or leap the farthest, I was off playing with the beetles that lived behind the elders’ den.” She blinked at Mothfall, her expression softening as nostalgia swept over her. “Did you know that there are these little bugs, and when you poke them, they curl up and you can roll them around? They’re so cute.”

“And then what happened?” prompted Mothfall. “Your Clanmates discovered the beetles and killed them?”

“What? Oh, no, nothing like that. The beetle hill is where it always is. I would visit more often, but a warrior can’t get away the things that a silly apprentice can.” She sighed. “I just never fit in. Cats would talk to me, sure, but I never felt a deep, heartfelt connection with any cat. Until Dapplecall saw me at a gathering. I guess like recognizes like. They invited me to FunClan, and the rest is history.”

Mothfall purred. “That wasn’t so bad. The way you told it, I was afraid you’d have some secret tragic backstory, like your kithood best friend had been killed by the evil ghost of Mudclaw.” She made an exaggerated shuddering movement. She’d heard stories of Mudclaw as a kit, the cat who had launched a coup take over WindClan until what is now the treebridge to the gathering island was struck down by StarClan, killing him.

(Except now she couldn’t help but wonder if, like Pricklepaw, Mudclaw’s tree had been an unfortunate accident, and the tales of his monstrosity had been warped to fit the grandness of his death, so that cats didn’t have to feel anger at the unjustness of it all.)

Shortstone batted at Mothfall. “Hah! I wish. That would be a better story, at least. If I ever do some grand enough to deserve a story, I want you to tell it, Mothball.”

“Well.” Mothfall flicked her tail against Shortstone’s side. “Now you have me.”

“Yeah, I have you.” Shortstone murmured. “Hey. Can I tell you something?”

“You already have.”

“I’m serious.”

“Me, too.” When Shortstone scowled, Mothfall’s mood fell. “You can tell me anything. Honest.”

“I know.” Shortstone tensed herself, then meowed. “I like you. A lot.”

“Oh.” Mothfall stiffened. She put her paw over the stone-gray molly’s. “I had my suspicions.”

“But you don’t feel the same way,” Shortstone’s inflection was flat, emotionless.

Mothfall shook her head. “I can’t. You know that.”

“I do.” Shortstone looked down, ears flat against her head. “Still, I had hoped. Foolishly.”

“I’m sorry. I do love you, you know. Just not like that.” Moth flattened her ears. “I’m glad somebody likes me, even if it’s in a way that I can’t return. Right now, it doesn’t feel like anycat does.”

“Well, now you know that’s not true. And I think I can speak for all of us when I saw you have friends in FunClan, too.”

“I know.” Mothfall knocked her head against Shortstone. Her mood fell as she pulled back. “You mean I _had_ friends in FunClan.”

“What?” Shortstone’s fur spiked.

Mothfall shook her head. “I’m sorry. But I have a lot going on right now… I’ve been helping Ambereye take care of the sick cats, and I’ve been helping the apprentices with their chores… I need to focus on my Clanmates and my future in ShadowClan. I can’t spend my nights fooling around the lake.”

Shortstone flinched as if Mothfall had struck her. “It’s not fooling around. We’re your friends. We care about you. More than ShadowClan does, at any rate.”

“That’s not true,” Mothfall protested. She dug her claws into the ground. “Take it back.”

“Fine. I take it back. I’m sorry.” Shortstone stood to face Mothfall, her steely expression softening. “I worry about you, Moth. You used to talk like there were stars sparking off your pawtips. I remember how you told me about standing up for you and your mentor when your leader refused to take you to gatherings. But you barely talked the last time you came to FunClan, and now you’re not even going to say goodbye face-to-face?” Shortstone’s eyes welled with pain. “It’s like we don’t mean anything to you, even after all we’ve done.”

Mothfall squeezed her eyes shut and looked away. “I think you should go.”

Shortstone started to protest, then cut herself off. “I understand. Goodbye, then.” Without a word, Shortstone stood up and padded away. Mothfall waited until she couldn’t hear Shortstone anymore, and then waited some more, just to be safe.

When she finally opened her eyes, she was alone. She rose to her paws and limped back to camp. 

Funny how she’s the one breaking hearts in the middle of ShadowClan’s territory, for once.

Funnily enough, it didn’t feel any better to be on the giving instead of the receiving end.

* * *

“How many times do I have to tell you, you aren’t touching a hair on my kit’s pelt?” Birdsong growled. They swatted at Mothfall with their white paw, growling.

Mothfall rolled her eyes. Ever since her half-moon misadventure a few nights ago, she hadn’t been able to shake off her bad mood. Birdsong’s antagonism only exacerbated her annoyance. “Fine. Be my guest.” She batted the mouse in their direction.

Since her talk with Shortstone, Mothfall had devoted herself to her Clanmates. She’d started helping out during the day now, too, to make sure that her Clanmates got enough care. The cats resisted her less when Ambereye was in the den. When she was on her own, however, little had changed.

Birdsong snatched the mouse and nudged it towards Oakpaw. The reddish-brown tom lay in the nest next to their parent, completely still except for the rise and fall of his chest. His ribs and hips jut out from his sides.

The tortoiseshell-and-white cat nudged their kit. “Oakpaw? Oakpaw, wake up.”

The tom stirred. Without raising his head, he opened one eye, gaze unfocused and glazed. He tried to say something, but all that came out was a garbled mewl.

“Come on, honey, we have something for you to eat. Wake up.” Birdsong’s mew grew more frantic as they shook their kit again, eyes growing wide and fearful.

“Here.” Mothfall stepped forward. Birdsong glared, and she dipped her head, crouching back. “I’m not going to touch him. But I can help. I’ll chew up some prey, and you open his mouth. You’ll have to guide it down his throat.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Birdsong mewed, voice quiet.

“I’ll help you.” Mothfall crouched down and took a bite out of the mouse. Instead of swallowing it, she spat it out a hair’s breadth in front of Oakpaw’s face. “Now, open up his mouth with your paws.”

After Birdsong pried their kits’ jaws open, Mothfall nudged the chewed-up food into his mouth. “Great. Now you’re going to want to hold his head up and stroke your paw down his throat. That’ll help him swallow.”

“Okay.” Tail ticking with worry, Birdsong curled around their kit. They propped his head up with one paw and smoothed the other down his throat in delicate strokes.

“You can press harder than that,” Mothfall mewed. “You’re trying to move the prey down his throat, not tickle him.”

Birdsong flashed her an annoyed glance, but she pressed down harder, and after a heartbeat, Oakpaw swallowed. Birdsong gasped. “It worked!” Their eyes lit up. “Let’s do it again.”

Mothfall chewed and spit up another mouthful, and Birdsong coaxed it down their kit’s throat much faster this time. The two of them settled into a pattern, Mothfall nudging over the food, and Birdsong feeding it to their kit, until the mouse was little more than a pile of bones. They wrapped their white-tipped tail around their kit. Now that he had eaten, his breathing evened out, and he seemed comfortable for once.

Birdsong blinked at Mothfall. “Thank you,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course after my last chapter, where I said I was basically done writing, I realized the pacing was off of the entire second half of this story and had to frankstein everything into little pieces and sew it back together again. oops!
> 
> Shortstone really said "you've become a level 10 friend and unlocked my tragic backstory" only for Mothfall to shoot her down like that, huh!!


	15. The Fever

Most of the senior warriors had fallen ill, and those that hadn’t were preoccupied with those who had.

Weedwhisker worried herself sick over Birdsong and Oakpaw, and wound up in the medicine den insisting she was sick more than once. Mothfall was amazed with the patience in which Ambereye talked her though her fears, gave her juniper berries to soothe her nausea, and sent her on her way with a cheery, “I’ll see you back in my den bright and early tomorrow morning!” Weedwhisker stumbled back into the paws of Rapidfoot and Meadowstripe, who did their best to keep their friend distracted while when they weren't setting up the nursery for their soon-to-come litter of kits.

Shortleg had never been the take-charge type, and besides, they spent their days fussing over their Smallheart, who had become even more icy than usual ever since her mate Puddlespots had ended up in the medicine den. She fawned over Tawnypaw more than ever, and Mothfall had to whisk her out of her mother’s clutches more than once, insisting that yes, Smallheart, I know that giving your daughter her fifth bath of the day is important, but she needs to soak some moss in water for the sick cats. No, Smallheart, I won’t let her go inside the sick den. Yes, Smallheart, I will keep an eye on her while she’s outside of camp. No, Smallheart, you can’t come with her; didn’t you hear? I heard Ratpelt was asking for you.

The ginger molly nudged Tawnypaw to her feet and out of camp while her mother was distracted. Tawnypaw glared, just as icy as her mother, and stalked off to gather some moss. But she never complained, so Mothfall kept doing it.

With the rest of the senior warriors ill or occupied, that left Ratpelt to fill Briarstreak’s place and order patrols. Berrystar had organized a few by herself, at first, but one day she was out hunting and Heavysong needed help, because with Seedshade sick he was left to mentor Tawnypaw as well as his own Mudpaw, and Ratpelt stepped in, as easy as breathing. Ever since cats had looked to him for instruction.

He had tried to order Mothfall on patrol on top of her medicine cat duties several times, but each time Ambereye stood him down. For now, Mothfall was able to pour herself into helping her Clanmates.

She was up from dawn till dusk most days, and sometimes from dusk till dawn after that; Ambereye wasn’t old, but he needed to nap in the middle of the day to recharge, and Mothfall had to step in and deal with any emergencies while he was out. Mothfall worked and she worked and she worked. Until her paws ached and more. But her Clanmates needed her and she didn’t have the luxury to complain.

Her fur prickled as Heavysong dropped a sprig of catmint at her and Ambereye’s paws.

“This is all ThunderClan could spare?” Ambereye asked, his meow hoarse.

Heavysong’s tail ticked. “We were lucky to get even this much. Sedgestar didn’t want to give us anything, but Thornstep made a pretty convincing argument. Said that their own health wouldn’t matter if their neighbors were sick.” Tawnypaw and Mudpaw crouched behind him, sharing a worried glance; she could see the unasked question in their eyes: who would get the treatment?

Ambereye’s whiskers twitched. “At least no matter what happens, I have a friend in Thornstep. Though I’m sure Starlingfoot wasn’t happy to see her apprentice undermine her authority.”

“Not at all. You would have thought that Thornstep had told him to jump off a cliff, he looked so mad.” The humor disappeared from Heavysong’s face as his shoulders sagged. “Please, make sure that Briarstreak gets some. I know she’ll want to the other warriors to take it, but ever since Beechtail and I started courting each other… she’s been like a mother to me. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.”

“We’ll do what we can,” Ambereye mewed gently.

Heavysong nodded. His tail draged in the dirt as he padded away. Mudpaw and Tawnypaw glanced at Mothfall before running after their mentor.

Ambereye nudged the catmint with his paw. “I suppose we’ll have to make do.” He picked up the catmint and padded to the sick den. Mothfall followed behind, chin lifted high so no cat could see how every step felt like walking on thorns, and her fur weighed her down like stones.

The stench of sickness made her gag as she entered the den. Oakpaw raised his head as they entered, nose twitching as the distinct smell of catmint reached his nose. “Is that catmint?”

“Only a bit,” Mothfall admitted.

The reddish tom didn’t say anything, but his eyes grew wide and he shrank back against his parent. Mothfall wondered if he was more scared that Birdsong would go without treatment, or himself. Acorntuft ran his tail over the young tom’s back. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “The medicine cats are here to help.” His soothing mew was cut short by a coughing fit so intense, his entire body shook.

On his other side, Puddlespots grumbled, covering his ears with his tail. “All of this coughing is driving me halfway to the Dark Forest,” he grumbled. “If this continues for much longer, he won’t need any catmint, because I’ll kill him.”

Still coughing, Acorntuft shoved Puddlespots with his paw, his tail curling in amusement.

Ambereye had set the catmint down to examine the sick cats, sniffing their fur and pressing his nose to their pawpads. “Briarstreak and the elders have the highest fevers,” he murmured. As Briarstreak let out a hacking cough, he frowned. “I’ll bring you some tansy to help with your cough. If he has the energy to spare after his trip to ThunderClan, Heavysong can take the apprentices out to search for honey.”

Frogjump nuzzled Briarstreak as Ambereye spoke, a surprisingly affectionate expression on her face. “See? What did I tell you, Mom? I told you that’s what you needed.”

Willowgaze rested his tail across Shiningeyes’ back. The tortoisheshell-and-white cat was spread out flat on the ground, barely moving except for the shallow rise and fall of their chest. “Shiningeyes and I both agreed that if catmint became scarce, we wouldn’t take any,” he mewed. Ambereye’s eyes flashed, but the gray tom continued, “We’ve seen more summers than we can count. It’d be an honor for us to go out, knowing our sacrifice helped save our Clanmates.”

On his other side, Grasseyes pressed his face against Willowgaze’s chest. “You don’t need to do this.” His mew grew pleading, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“It’s an _honor_ to do this,” Willowgaze assured him, licking Grasseyes between the ears.

“I wanted to retire to the elders’ den with you someday,” the speckled white cat murmured. “I wanted to spend more long, warm Green-leaf evenings with you.”

“You sound like I’ve already died,” Willowgaze mewed, nuzzling his mate affectionately. “There’s still time for me to pull through yet.”

Willowgaze was cut off by a hacking cough, and Grasseyes blinked imploringly at Ambereye. “Please don’t do this.”

“I’ll bring him some tansy as soon as I can,” Ambereye promised.

He turned to check in on Seedshade and Beelight, and Mothfall pressed up against him. “Why would you agree to this?” she hissed. “You know he’s not going to survive unless he gets catmint. Are you sentencing your friends to their deaths?”

Ambereye shook his head. “I’m not any happier about this than you are,” he murmured, “But Willowgaze and Shiningeyes have led full lives, and these days they wake up in pain more mornings than not, even when they don’t have greencough. If they say this is their time to go, then I will respect that wish.”

Mothfall ‘s eyes flashed. “So if I got greencough, would I not deserve any catmint? Because I wake up in pain sometimes, so it’d be better for everycat if I died?”

“Of course not,” Ambereye tried to run his tail over her side, but she stepped back, baring her teeth. Ambereye sighed. “What would you have me do, Mothfall? We don’t have enough for every cat. Would you have me split up catmint into such small quantities that no cat gets a full dose, leaving them all to the fate of StarClan? Being a medicine cat isn’t all fun and games. Sometimes you have to decide who lives and who dies.”

Mothfall bristled. “No. There _has_ to be a way to save every cat. I will personally scour this territory for every clump of catmint I can find. If I can’t find catmint, then I’ll use tansy. I’ll _make_ it work. I refuse to sit back and let cats _die_!”

Ambereye watched her carefully. “Part of being a medicine cat is knowing that sometimes there’s nothing you can do, and it’s out of your paws.”

Mothfall lifted her chin. “It’s a good thing I’m not a medicine cat, huh?”

Ambereye met her icy gaze. They locked gazes for several long, tense heartbeats. He grinned, and something glimmered in his eyes that Mothfall hadn’t seen since before the outbreak started. Hope. No, not hope. Pride.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re not a medicine cat,” he mewed. “Maybe that attitude is just what we need.”

Pawing a single sprig of catmint close, he started to shred the leaves with his claws. “I’ll give out this catmint, including some to our elders. Can you organize a patrol to search for more catmint? Oh, and tell Heavysong that I want him to go find some honey. If he can’t do it, then any warrior will do. Maybe Bravefeather. I’m sure he’d love to help out his family and his apprentice.” His tail flicked towards Briarstreak, Frogjump, and Oakpaw as he spoke. “Oh, and when was the last time you took a break?”

Mothfall shuffled her paws. “Recently enough.”

“Are you sure?”

Mothfall frowned. “Of course I’m sure.”

“Fine. I trust you.” Ambereye whisked his tail, dismissing her.

Mothfall itched to stay and help, but sensed it would be better not to push her luck. She dipped her head and padded out of the den. On her way, she passed by Beelight, curled around Seedshade protectively, blinked at Mothfall. She wrapped her tail around her sister, and Mothfall dared to believe she saw hope flicker in her eyes. Beelight had a relatively mild case, all things considered; her chances of surviving were good. But her sister? At this rate, she would die of thirst before greencough took her.

Mothfall squared her shoulders, more determined than ever. She wouldn’t let these cats die. She couldn’t.

There were few cats out in the camp when Mothfall exited the den. She didn’t see Heavysong or Bravefeather anywhere. She started to pad towards the warriors’ den, wondering if one of them was taking a midday nap, when the entrance to the camp rustled and Berrystar pushed her way through the brambles; Bravefeather, Beechtail, and Ratpelt followed at her heels.

Mothfall froze when she saw her father. But she had to talk to Bravefeather. She’d promised Ambereye. She forced herself into motion, shaking her fur and trying to look more awake than she felt. Her mouth opened to ask Bravefeather to help her out, but hesitated when she heard the patrol talking.

“I think you should leave Ambereye and Mothfall behind, to take care of the sick cats,” Ratpelt mewed. “And we should take all of our healthy warriors, to show that we’re still strong. We can leave behind our apprentices and their mentors to guard the camp, but we need to make a show of force to remind every cat that no matter what happens, not to mess with ShadowClan.”

Berrystar nodded. “That’s not a bad idea, Ratpelt. I like the way you think.”

“What are you talking about?” Mothfall spread her paws out, bracing herself, but winced as another shot of pain shot up her leg. She pulled her paw close to her body, not taking her eyes off of her father.

The dark brown tabby’s whiskers twitched. “That’s another reason we should leave Mothfall behind. I don’t think she’d be able to make it to the island, even if she wanted to.”

Bravefeather eyed her. “You do look pretty out of it.”

His words tore into her like lightning splitting a dam, letting the water of her exhaustion gush forth. Her paws felt as if she were walking on embers, and even blinking hurt. When was the last time she had slept? She couldn’t remember.

She forced herself to flick her tail at him, even though the motion hurt as much as if another cat had bitten it. “Are you seriously considering going to the gathering?” she demanded. “We need to stop spreading the infection. The best way to do that is to stay on our territory.”

“We’ve see other cats all the time on our border patrols,” sniffed Ratpelt.

“Yes, but we make sure to stay at least three tail-lengths away from them at all times. Do you think we can do that with five Clans’ worth of cats cooped together on a small island? It won’t work. We need to skip the gathering. In fact, we should tell every patrol we see that no Clan should go to the gathering.”

Berrystar pulled herself to her full height, bearing down on Mothfall. “Who do you think you are, to tell me what to do?”

“Somecat who cares about this Clan, and all of the Clans around the lake.” Mothfall lashed her tail.

Berrystar scowled. “This idea of yours is—” She broke off, coughing.

Ratpelt ran his tail over her side. “Are you okay, Berrystar?” He glanced at Mothfall. “Maybe this wannabe medicine cat is covered in dust, and some of it got stuck in your nose.”

“No,” Mothfall stepped closer, peering into her leader’s glassy eyes. “She’s sick.”

“I can’t be sick,” sniffed Berrystar. “I’m the leader of ShadowClan. It’s my duty to protect the Clan.”

“And you do a great job of it,” mewed Mothfall evenly, trying to soothe the large cat. “But in doing so, you caught greencough. Come on, we need to tell Ambereye.” When Berrystar hesitated, she tapped her foot on the ground, ignoring the pain stabbing up her leg. “Now.”

Berrystar relented. “Alright,” she mewed. “Ambereye can look me over. But when he tells me that I’m fine…” she let the threat hang.

“That’s not going to happen, so that’s a risk I’ll take.” Mothfall motioned for Berrystar to follow her. The black-and-white molly hobbled forward, pressing against Mothfall as she limped towards the medicine den. Mothfall staggered under her weight. Did she really weigh so much? No, she couldn’t. But her own fur was already dragging her down, and this was so much on top of it.

“Are you alright, Mothfall?” Berrystar grunted. “Maybe Ambereye should give you a checkup, too.”

“No,” Mothfall grit her teeth. “I’m fine. I’m just…” She pressed her paw down, and it refused to support her weight. Too shocked to cry out, her paws buckled, and she collapsed.

“What happened?” Berrystar demanded, struggling to catch herself before she fell on top of Mothfall. She shook the ginger molly with her large paw. “Mothfall! Mothfall! Get up.”

Mothfall wanted to, she really did. But she thought her limbs had been burnt to a crisp, and she couldn’t feel them anymore. She couldn’t focus, and she had no clue what was going on around her. She blinked, and saw the hazy shape of—her mother? No, it was Ambereye, it had to be. The tom meowed something to her that she couldn’t understand.

His musty paw pressed something against her tongue. She swallowed, and heartbeats later darkness swallowed her, and she didn't hear or see anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Oops.


	16. The Cure

Mothfall shifted in her nest. She cracked open her eyes, blinking as they adjusted to the morning sunlight filtering in through the den. The smell of dust and herbs made her nose wrinkle; glancing around, she realized she was in the medicine den, not in her own nest. Outside the den she could hear cats talking. Was she imagining things, or did they sound panicked?

Mothfall tried to stand up, but immediately gasped and sank back into her nest. Stars, her entire body hurt. Her paws throbbed, and she had to choke back a cry of pain. She forced herself to roll onto her side, hoping that kicking her legs out will help increase blood flow and ease her pain. As she held herself still, biting her tongue to keep from moaning, her memory started to trickle back: leading Berrystar to the medicine den, collapsing, and her fade to blackness. She licked her lips, making a face at the bitter taste on her tongue. Ambereye must have given her poppy seeds.

She glanced up as a shadow blocked the entrance of the den and Ambereye pushed his way in. He stopped when he made eye contact with her, blinking in surprise. “Oh, you’re awake.”

“Have I been out for long?”

“After you passed out, you were out for the better part of a day and a half.” Ambereye eyed her. “You overworked yourself until your body literally couldn’t take any more.”

Mothfall grunted. “I feel pretty bad.”

“I can’t imagine why you thought this was a good idea.” Ambereye rolled his eyes, but he moved over to his herb storage, pawing through his stores. He pressed two poppyseeds into his paw and hopped over to Mothfall. “I would have thought halting your training as an apprentice would have been lesson enough.”

“Maybe I was being mousebrained,” Mothfall sighed. “Those horrible things that everycat was saying about me… I just thought that if I showed the Clan how hard I was willing to work for them, they’d stop being so mad.”

“You’re right, that was mousebrained,” Ambereye mewed. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

“I promise to listen when you tell me to take a break,” Mothfall panted. Ambereye grunted, but held his paw out, she lapped up the seeds eagerly.

“I have to go now,” he told her, touching his nose to her ear. “By some miracle, tou don’t seem to have greencough. Still, I think you should stay in here until you can walk on your own, so I can make sure you don’t do anything mousebrained.”

“Where are you going?”

“Checking on our patients,” Ambereye mewed. “We haven’t had any new cases in several days. With luck, we’re approaching the end of this infection.”

“But…?” Mothfall prompted, when he lingered.

“But,” Ambereye mewed, “Shiningeyes isn’t getting any better, and though Briarstreak’s fever is down, her cough is getting worse. I have to resign myself to the fact that at least one cat isn’t going to make it through.”

“No!” hissed Mothfall. She tried to rise to her paws, but they gave out underneath her, and she fell back to the floor, which was spinning all around her. “We can’t give up.”

“I’m not giving up,” Ambereye assured her. “You encouraged me to keep fighting. And in fact, your insistence that Berrystar not go to the gathering, and realizing that she was sick, undoubtably saved us from spreading the infection around even more. You’ve saved lives, Mothfall. But the best thing you can do for your Clan right now is rest. You’re in no shape to help any cat right now.”

Mothfall tried to protest, but the poppy seeds were starting to kick in, and all that came out was a drawn-out mewl.

Ambereye pressed his nose between her ears. “Rest up. I’ll be back soon.”

She nodded, too fuzzy-headed to protest, and allowed sleep to take her once more.

* * *

By the time Mothfall woke up again, the late afternoon sun was casting its glow on the camp. She could see the golden glow peaking through the medicine den entrance. She stretched out a paw, testing its strength, but immediately winced and pulled it close again. Still hurt.

She noticed Ambereye grooming himself on the other side of the den. She purred. “I thought we were supposed to go swimming, not lick ourself.”

The golden-brown tom looked guilty when he saw her watching. “I always clean my paws before dealing with my patients,” he mewed. “But to be honest, I haven’t had the time to go for a swim.” He straightened out, examining her closely. “How are you feeling?”

“Still in pain,” she grunted.

“It might take a few days before you feel better,” he mewed.

She flicked her ear. “How’s Shiningeyes and Briarstreak?”

“About the same as yesterday, and the day before.”

Mothfall hummed. Ambereye stepped closer, eyeing her. “You look like you’re scheming.”

“What would you say if I said you should go swimming right now? And that you should take me with you?”

He flicked his ear, eyes flickering with surprise. “What?”

“It’s something I learned from a RiverClan cat. Their elders don’t have joint pain because they swim so much. I’ve tried it, and it works.”

Ambereye grunted. “Interesting.”

“Will you take me with you?”

Amebereye tilted his head to the side, considering her. “I have to take care of the sick cats.”

“Just for a short while,” Mothfall begged. “It’ll be good for you to have a break. I can’t get there on my own. We can tell everycat where we’re going so they know where to find us.”

“Why me? Why not any other cat?”

Mothfall held her head. “I’m not sure anycat else likes me enough to take me.”

Ambereye purred. “I think you’d be surprised. But maybe you’re right, and a little break is what I need. I’ll let Berrystar know and we’ll be on our way.”

It took a mixture of limping along on three (or sometimes two) legs, plenty of breaks, and hope, but eventually the two made it down to the lakeshore. Ambereye stopped at the water’s edge, but Mothfall slithered in, sighing as the water enveloped her up to her neck. The cool water soothed her inflamed joints, and as she started to paddle forward, she felt her pain gradually lessen.

Ambereye purred from his spot on the shore. “You look like a RiverClan cat.”

“Maybe I am,” Mothfall purred. She broke off as she remembered Creekfur and Mousepaw. If things had been different, could she and her littermates have been Creekfur’s kits? How different would her life have been? Would she still have her disorder? Could Smokeheart have been convinced to stay if he had shared a border with his mate?

She shook her head, clearing it. “You should join me,” she purred, paddling closer to shore.

Ambereye stepped back. “No, thank you.”

“Next time, then.”

Ambereye laughed. He toed his way back to the waterline and washed his paws, working the water up his body with little splashes. As he cleaned himself, Mothfall floated in the water, enjoying the lack of tension in her body.

Ambereye stood up, nose twitching. “I think I smell something,” he mewed. “There’s catmint nearby.”

“Really?” Mothfall tried to raise her head above the water, opening her mouth to search for any smell other than lake scent.

“I’ll be back soon, alright?” Ambereye mosied down the shoreline, nose twitching. “I’m just going to poke my nose around and see if I can find it.”

Mothfall blinked as he left. He was probably just imagining things. If there was any catmint left on ShadowClan territory, they would have found it by now.

She was about to turn back around when a breeze hit Mothfall’s face, and her eyes widened as a familiar, sweet smell hit her nose. Ambereye had been right! There _was_ catmint nearby! But where?

She paddled in a circle, trying to triangulate the smell. It wasn’t until her paws scraped the ground that she realized how far onto RiverClan territory she had strayed. She pushed back, glancing around for any passing cats, and sighed when she saw she hadn’t been caught.

She turned around, planning to tell Ambereye that RiverClan had catmint, and he needed to ask Breezedapple if they could spare any, when the wind shifted direction at just the right angle to send a wave of catmint-scent in her direction. Her mouth watering, she hesitated, and glanced back at the shore.

With a scent that strong, they clearly had enough to spare. And with Seedshade and Shiningeyes as sick as they are, every heartbeat counts. Her fur was so wet that she wouldn’t leave any ShadowClan scent behind. Surely it wouldn’t be a crime to take some? It was against the code, sure, but if it ultimately meant she could save some of her Clanmates’ lives, then it was worth it.

She crept forward, keeping her ears perked as she slid onto the shore and towards the catmint-scent. As the marshy reeds closed in around her, she breathed a sigh of relief. Though she hated to feel so enclosed after moons of her own empty pine forest, the cover would keep her bright ginger fur hidden. She crawled forward, and with step she winced, fearing the yowls of alarm that would mean somecat had spotted her. But as no yowls came, she gained confidence and started to move as quickly as her aching paws would allow.

She broke through the reeds, gasping as rows of plants stretched out before her. Catmint! There was more than she could have even hoped for! Without hesitation, she leaned forward, snapping off stems at the base. When she’d gathered as much as she dared, she gathered the stalks into a pile. She was about to pick them up and head back the way she came when she smelled another scent, one that she hadn’t noticed at first, over the overwhelming stink of catmint.

Cats.

“Hello?”

Mothfall whirled around (and winced, as pain flared in her paws), fur bristling. “I can explain! I—" She broke off as she realized that the stranger wasn't a stranger at all. "Mousepaw?”

The skinny brown tom raised his head, blinking as he recognized her. “It’s Mousewhisper, now.”

“Oh, um. Congratulations.”

Mousewhisper crept forward, his large ears pressed flat against his head. “What are you doing on RiverClan territory?”

Mothfall’s mind whirled as she struggled to come up with a response. “I, uh…”

“Hello.”

The reeds rustled as a sleek white molly with silver stripes pushed her way through. Mothfall shivered as she met the molly’s icy gaze. “Creekfur?”

The silver-striped molly whisked her tail along her son’s side. “I’ll take care of this, love. You go back to hunting.”

The brown tabby tom ducked his head. He started to turn around, then paused. “What if Petalgaze asks where you are?”

Creekfur glanced in Mothfall’s direction. “Tell her that I had promised Breezedapple I would check up on the catmint for them.”

“Okay.” He swept his gaze over Mothfall one last time. “It was nice to see you again, I guess.” He bounded off, and Mothfall lost him as the reeds closed in on him, covering his path.

Creekfur cleared her throat, and as Mothfall met her gaze, she winced at the pain in her eyes. “What are you doing?”

With a pang, Mothfall realized how this must seem. A cat from a different Clan, fur wet to hide her scent, with a pile of catmint at her paws? “Creekfur, this isn’t what it looks like—”

“It looks like you’re taking RiverClan’s catmint without permission.” Creekfur’s mew fell flat.

“I guess it is what it looks like,” Mothfall hedged, “But it’s for a good reason! ShadowClan cats are dying.”

“So are RiverClan cats,” Creekfur mewed.

Mothfall whirled for something, anything to say to make this situation better. The mental image of Mousewhisper, with his all-too familiar yellow eyes and large ears, flashed in her mind. “He’s my half-sibling, you know,” she mewed quietly.

Creekfur flicked her ear. “I know that. So?”

“So, we’re kin, almost.” She remembered how, just heartbeats ago, she had pictured her life as Creekfur’s kit in RiverClan instead of Wildstep’s kit in ShadowClan. Did she ever wonder that, too? Did she care? She had to. She must.

But Creekfur only stared blankly. “You should have thought about that before you left FunClan.”

Mothfall shuffled her paws. “Does that mean Shortstone told you…?”

“That you’re leaving FunClan? She didn’t have to. I knew when you didn’t show up. She told everycat that you would be back soon, and I wanted to believe her. But I had my doubts, and you just proved them right. I don’t blame Shortstone for not wanting us to mourn your loss. It would have been undeserved.”

Mothfall flinched.

Creekfur's gaze softened, and her mew grew gentle, even sympathetic. “If you had only _asked_. Breezedapple wanted to offer it to ShadowClan ages ago, but Dewstar refused, saying they didn’t want to risk hurting Berrystar’s pride.” She shook her head. “Dapplecall and I gave every FunClan cat as much catmint as they wanted at the last FunClan gathering. If you had come, you would have gotten some, too.”

Mothfall’s heart shattered. She’d thought she’d done what’s best for her Clan, by stopping her FunClan gatherings. What if she had she doomed them all? Shiningeyes and Willowgaze wouldn’t have had to sacrifice their catmint shares if Mothfall had gotten more for the Clan days ago. She flinched, unsure of what she could possibly say that would make Creekfur feel better. "I'm sorry."

Creekfur grunted. “Come on. I’m taking you back to the border. Take your catmint and let’s go.”

Too stunned to protest, Mothfall grabbed her catmint and followed Creekfur towards the border. The silver-striped molly stopped when Mothfall limped and fell behind, but never offered to help. Mothfall didn’t ask.

When they reached the border, where the reeds faded away to grass, Creekfur pulled to a stop. She glanced towards ShadowClan. “Listen Mothfall, I know you think you’re doing something brave and heroic for your Clan—”

“I am.”

"I understand that's what you believe." Creekfur's expression hardened. “But don’t you ever, ever pull a stunt like that again. I have to put my own family first. And if you're not FunClan, you're not a part of my family. Understand?"

Mothfall swallowed. “I understand.”

"Good." Creekfur grunted. "The next time I catch you trespassing, I won’t be so forgiving.”

“Mothfall!”

As she turned towards the new voice, her heart wrenched as she saw the golden-brown pelt of Ambereye loping towards them.

“I’m sorry I took so long, I—" Ambereye slowed as he realized Mothfall wasn’t alone. “Hello! What's this?” his nose twitched. Ambereye stepped forward, tail quivering. “Is that catmint?”

She eyed Creekfur; her relationship with Ambereye had been tenuous as is, and she didn’t need to ruin it with the admission that she had trespassed onto RiverClan territory. Even if she had gotten through unnoticed, she had planned to tell Ambereye she found the catmint on ShadowClan’s side of the border.

Creekfur grunted. “It sure is. Breezedapple found a whole bunch of it this morning. Told me to pass it along to ShadowClan if I saw a patrol. So here you go.”

Ambereye blinked. “Are you sure you can spare so much?”

“Breezedapple insisted.” Creekfur nosed it forward. “Don’t worry about us. We have plenty to spare. Healthy neighbors mean a healthy Clan, right?”

Ambereye hesitated, then dipped his head. “You’re right, of course. Thank you, Creekfur.” He picked up the catmint and backed up, motioning with a jerk of his head for Mothfall to follow.

Mothfall shuffled her paws as Creekfur stared emotionlessly onward. “Thank you for not ratting me out,” she murmured. “I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.”

"You can make it up to me by never pulling a stunt like this again," Creekfur mewed, her voice flat. “We had a trust, and you betrayed that trust. I’m only doing this because healthy neighbors means a healthy Clan.”

Mothfall watched as the silver-striped molly disappeared into the reeds before limping after Ambereye. She shivered, but it wasn’t because of her wet fur.

The two cats continued in companiable silence until they were almost back at camp. Mothfall heard the uneven thudding paws before she saw Shortleg racing towards them, their tail bushed out in fear. “Ambereye! Thank goodness you’re back.” As they skid to a stop, Mothfall stiffened at how badly they were trembling.

“What is it?” she asked for Ambereye, who couldn’t speak with his mouth full of catmint. 

“It’s Shiningeyes," Shortleg panted. "I think… I think it’s their time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, we're burning all of those bridges, now, huh? :P


	17. The Funeral

Almost a quarter moon had passed since Mothfall had met Creekfur at the lake. She hadn’t yet been given the okay to return to her normal warrior duties, but Ambereye had deemed her fit enough to walk around camp. She’d helped out the apprentices when she could, and kept the sick cats company. She wasn’t allowed back in the sick den; Ambereye wasn’t sure if her weakened joints could make her more susceptible to greencough, but he wouldn't risk it. Besides, now that cats were getting better, it was easier for him to manage the patients on his own.

So she sat outside the den and shared stories from a safe distance. Oakpaw in particular was eager to hear her news of life outside the den. He had been getting better each day with the help of the catmint, but wasn’t allowed outside yet. He never seemed thrilled to see her, and neither did Birdsong for that matter, but they were desperate to hear of anything other than their denmates’ complaining, so they let her talk.

Glancing at the sorrowful faces peeking out of the sick den tonight, Mothfall wished she had a funny story to tell Oakpaw. A crescent moon shone overhead, casting the clearing in a soft glow as cats gathered in the center. Mothfall hung back near the medicine cat den, unwilling to face the cats lying stiffly in the center.

Frogjump, Seedshade, and Puddlespots.

She couldn’t bare to face the reality of their passing. What was the medicine den without Frogjump’s sour attitude? What was the warrior den without Seedshade’s quiet presence, or Puddlespots' grumpy comments?

She could hear Beelight whimpering in the sick den. In her place, Ferntooth, Troutpath, and Specklefur crouched over Seedshade’s body, noses buried in her thick golden-brown fur.

Sorrow hung over the camp like a thick fog; they had already held a vigil for Shiningeyes, and she’d overheard Ambereye tell Berrystar that Willowgaze wouldn’t hold out for much longer. Despite the catmint, which had undoubtably saved Berrystar’s, Oakpaw’s, Birdsong’s, Grasseyes’, and Beelight’s lives, he had simply been too far gone to fight the fever off.

Doing her best to ignore the nagging guilt panging her stomach at their deaths were her fault, Mothfall swept her gaze across the clearing. The entire Clan was mourning their losses, both those that have already happened and those that were yet to come.

All except for one.

Ratpelt sat next to Smallheart. He had laid his tail over her shoulders, and leaned over to murmer something in her ear. He looked for all the world a concerned Clanmate, mourning the loss of his Clan.

But as Mothfall observed, she noticed the exaggerated hunch in his shoulders, and the lack of tension in his lips as he spoke. His tail ticked back and forth across Smallheart’s shoulders, pensive, but not worried. Not upset.

Did the deaths of his Clanmates really not concern him?

Of course it doesn’t, she realized. In his mind, none of this matters, does it? If StarClan doesn’t matter, neither does death.

For the first time, Mothfall found herself wondering if maybe he was right, after all. Maybe there was no morality. Why else would StarClan dare to take so many of their beloved warriors at once? These deaths, though they stabbed at her heart and left her empty inside, meant nothing, on a cosmic scale.

Maybe she was wrong to refuse to help him. Maybe she should have thanked him, that night in the forest, for opening her eyes to the truth.

Mothfall groaned and buried her face in her paws. Maybe none of this mattered.

None of it mattered at all.

* * *

As the moon continued to wane, things settled down. The death of their Clanmates weighed heavily on every cat, and the camp remained silent and dismal. But the cats that didn’t die felt better every day. Ambereye had released Oakpaw and Beelight back to their warrior duties, saying they recovered faster with their youthful energy. The others were allowed to leave the sick den and sleep in the warriors’ den, except for Berrystar, who had been released to the leader’s den, and Briarstreak, who stayed with Ambereye, but none of them could leave camp.

Briarstreak spent most of her time in the medicine den now. She came out in the morning and at sunset, to organize patrols and check in with Berrystar, but spent the rest of her time in her nest, staying as still as possible and trying to recuperate.

The problem wasn’t greencough. But even though the disease had left her, her cough had not. Mothfall couldn’t doze off for long before Briarstreak’s heaving coughs woke her up again. After what felt like the million and first time, Mothfall rose to her paws, shaking out her fur. “I’m going on a walk around camp. Stretch my legs,” she murmured.

Briarstreak shifted in her nest, ears flattening as she stared at Mothfall. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mothfall assured her, though it was.

Ambereye lifted his head to blink sleepily at her. That cat was such a heavy sleeper, he could get run over by a twoleg monster and he’d still sleep through the entire thing. While it was less than practical in an emergency, at times like this Mothfall couldn’t help but envy him.

“You can join the warriors’ den tonight, if you want.”

She angled her ears forward, surprised. “Really?”

“You’re still not allowed to leave camp for a few more days, but I don’t need to constantly monitor you. See no reason why you can’t sleep with your friends. If it helps you rest better, it’ll only do you go.”

She doubted any of those cats were her friend anymore, but she wouldn’t bite the paw that fed her. She dipped her head and padded across the clearing. She could go little faster than a crawl, since her joints were still so stiff and inflamed, but at least she could walk without searing pain.

The warriors’ den was quiet when she ducked in; it was late, and the cats that weren’t on the night patrol had went to sleep long ago. She picked her way over to an empty nest and curled up. Her eyelids sagged with exhaustion, and she fell asleep before she tucked her tail over her nose.

When she awoke in the morning, the sun had already risen, and the den was over half empty. She recognized the cats who had done night patrol, Bravefeather and Shortleg curled together in a corner, as were the still-recovering Beelight and Birdsong. Grasseyes and Acorntuft were awake, heads almost touching as they conversed in low tones.

“Do you think Briarstreak will return to her deputy duties any time soon?” Acorntuft asked.

Grasseyes leaned forward to lick a spare scrap of bracken off of his friend’s side. “Doubtful. She’s hardly in good enough shape to tell a mouse what to do. I bet you a moon of dawn patrols that she announces her retirement by the next full moon.”

“Wow,” Acorntuft breathed. “Who do you think will replace her? You?”

“I wish,” Grasseyes sniffed. “I’m a bit too old for that. Berrystar isn't just looking for a deputy, you know. She’s looking for a successor. It has to be somecat with a bit of life in them yet.”

“What about Beechtail? She’s young, but she cares about the Clan.”

“Too young, in my opinion.” Grasseyes shrugged his light speckled shoulders. “We need a cat who can take charge. A cat like Ratpelt.”

Mothfall’s fur prickled as Acorntuft nodded. “Yes, Ratpelt would be a good leader. He’s already practically our deputy. I know Briarstreak is well enough to organize patrols, but she’s hardly involved with Clan affairs. Yesterday, I saw Heavysong report a scent of dog by the SkyClan border to Ratpelt, not Briarstreak. Didn’t even hesitate. Walked right into camp and into his company.”

Grasseyes nodded. “I thought Ratpelt was too invested in those apprentices he fawned over to show any promise in leadership. He’s surprised me, these past few moons.”

“In a good way, I’d hope,” purred Acorntuft.

“Of course, in a good way, you mouse-brain,” Grasseyes purred. He broke off and stared at his paws, frowning. “He always told me I’d be deputy one day,” Grasseyes mewed, though by the wistfulness in his mew it was obvious he wasn’t talking about Ratpelt. He rested his head on his paws, and Acorntuft settled down next to him, offering his quiet condolences.

Acorntuft licked his ear. “I miss Willowgaze too,” he murmured.

When they quieted down, Mothfall rose to her paws and snuck out of her nest. Ratpelt, ShadowClan’s next deputy? Ratpelt, ShadowClan’s next leader? What was he playing at?

She stalked into the clearing, glowering when she realized Ratpelt’s dark brown pelt was nowhere to be seen. She sat down in a sunny patch and started to clean herself, running her tongue over her pelt in long strokes. Her fur had become ruffled and unkept; it had been hard to find the energy to maintain its upkeep over the last few days, with everything going on.

She had hoped that taking some time to herself would help her calm down, but the longer she waited the more her claws itched to rip into something. Whatever her father thinks he’s doing, he has another thing coming.

Just when she thought she would see red if she waited any longer, Ratpelt strutted through the entrance into camp, carrying two rats by their tails. Mothfall stalked over while he was setting his prey down in the freshkill pile. “We need to talk.”

“Certainly,” Ratpelt mewed, as calm as ever. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Not here. Outside of camp.”

“But Moth,” Ratpelt blinked, eyes wide and innocent, “You know you’re not supposed to leave camp.”

“It’s not like that’s ever stopped you before,” Mothfall grit her teeth. “And don’t call me Moth.”

“Of course, _Mothfall_.” The way he mewed her name made her shudder. Still, he followed her out of camp, for all appearances an obedient and willing father.

Mothfall padded until they were out of earshot and whirled around to face her father. She dug her claws into the soft pine needles, tail lashing back and forth. “What are you doing?”

“Right now? I’m talking to my daughter, who appears to be mad at me for reasons I can’t fathom.” Clearly unconcerned, Ratpelt sat down, licking his paw and swiping it over his whiskers.

“Don’t be coy. Why are you trying to become deputy?”

“I’m not trying to be anything. This Clan had a need, and I’m providing for that need.”

“But why?”

“Why not?” Ratpelt shrugged. He set his paw down and readjusted his position, moving his tongue down his shoulder and side. His tail flicked in Mothfall’s direction. “As deputy, everycat will treat me with respect and do whatever I asked of them. That will even be more true when I become leader.”

“That’s a horrible reason to become deputy!” Mothfall’s fur bushed out. “A good deputy should care about the wellbeing of her Clan.”

“Why should I bother with being a good deputy?” Ratpelt shrugged. “I’ve told you, Mothfall, there’s no ‘good’ or ‘bad’. We make some decisions that have absolutely no impact to the universe, and then we die and go to StarClan. That’s how it always was and that’s how it always will be. I might as well make myself comfortable in this life before I ascend.”

“That’s just wrong.” Mothfall’s pelt itched, and she stepped backwards as if physically distancing herself from her father would make his words less disgusting.

He flicked his tail upwards, glancing towards the sky. “Pricklepaw would have been ecstatic for me. When I became leader, I would have made her my deputy, and we would have been so happy. Everycat would do whatever we wanted, and we’d want for nothing.”

Mothfall glowered and dug her claws into the ground. She didn’t speak.

When he looked back at Mothfall, he frowned. “You could have that, too, you know. If you apologize for disobeying me before, I’ll let you be my deputy, and we can rule with a benevolent paw over ShadowClan. You’d have everything you could ever ask for. Your disorder wouldn’t matter. If you didn’t feel up to hunting, you could send out other cats to hunt for you. You would be happy, and pain-free.”

For a moment, Mothfall found her defenses weakening. Her father made it all sound so reasonable. Didn’t she deserve to live pain-free? Didn’t she deserve happiness?

“You’d be a horrible deputy and a worse leader,” she growled, even though her stomach roiled as she said it. She wanted it to be true. She needed it to be true. But was it?

“So? Who cares? It’s not like it matters. Nothing does.” Ratpelt gave himself one last lick before standing up. “If you’ll excuse me, this has been a lovely break, but I need to get back to camp. Briarstreak wanted to speak with me after I finished my patrol.” He stared at Mothfall, gaze lingering for an eternal heartbeat, before turning around and padding back into camp.

Mothfall watched him go, their conversation playing over and over in her mind. She knew (at least, she thought she knew) that he was lying, but his words had a way of worming into her mind so they couldn't easily be brushed off. It was hard to deny the allure of what he made sound like a reasonable truth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Poor Mothfall. :C 
> 
> There's only three chapters plus the epilogue after this! Eek! What will Mothfall do? What will happen to her and Ratpelt? We'll find out soon!!


	18. The Find

Mothfall dropped the soaked moss at the edge of Briarstreak’s nest. “Come on. You must be thirsty.”

The dark brown molly leaned her head out of her nest to sniff at the moss ball. “Don’t patronize me. I’m not an elder.”

“I’m not.” Mothfall shuffled her paws awkwardly before taking a step back. “I heard you coughing from outside the den while I was doing my exercises with Ambereye. I just finished up, so I thought I’d grab you something to drink.”

After a heartbeat, Briarstreak lapped at it with her tongue. She smacked her lips together, and when she next spoke, her mew had lost the harsh edge to its rasp. “Aren’t you back to work? Why are you stuck running apprentice tasks?”

“I’m doing border patrols, but I can’t hunt and I’m under strict orders to stay out of any potential border skirmishes,” Mothfall told her. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help out a Clanmate when she needs help.”

“Huh.” Briarstreak rose to her paws. She shook out her fur before shouldering past Mothfall, who stepped out of the way. The old warrior paused at the entrance of the den. For a moment, Mothfall thought she was going to thank her, but instead she snipped, “If you’re idle enough to help out old cats like me with one paw in the elders’ den, you have too much time on your paws. You can join the border patrol. They should be leaving soon.”

Mothfall padded after her, fur prickling. She blinked as she stepped into the sunlight. After her vision cleared, she could see cats not yet out on patrol relaxing around camp. Almost a moon had passed since the sickness had taken their Clanmates’ lives, and the hope that the worst was over was solidifying into certainty more and more with each passing day. It seemed that the worst was truly over.

Mothfall saw Ratpelt call out to Briarstreak and bound over to her. “You must be hungry! Come over here, I saved a tasty crow for us to share.”

The older warrior purred and padded after him. “You’re so thoughtful, Ratpelt. How did you remember that crow was my favorite?”

Mothfall swallowed and looked away. She hadn’t been completely honest with Briarstreak. In truth, the more time she spent helping out with menial tasks around camp, the less she had to notice Ratpelt watching her across the clearing, eyes burning with an unasked question: _What will you do?_ Mothfall shuddered at the thought of his steely gaze. Still, it was hard to deny that his approaching deputyship might be all the proof she needed that he was right about StarClan. Why else would they sit silently as Berrystar and Briarstreak all but outright declared that he was next in line to become deputy, and leader soon after?

Ambereye carried a mouse into the leader’s den, Grasseyes hot on his heels, as Berrystar’s muffled mew invited them both inside. Nearby, Tawnywhisker rolled over back into a sunny spot in her sleep, still tired from staying up all night standing vigil for her warrior name. Oakpaw and Mudpaw lay on either side of her, sharing worried glances. The sandy-furred molly had been sullen ever since the loss of her mentor Seedshade, and despite Ratpelt’s encouragement, never flourished under his guidance. Mothfall had heard Snailwhisper gripe that Berrystar had made Tawnywhisker a warrior just to end her endless complaining and dragging of her paws.

Oakpaw pressed his nose to Tawnywhisker’s ear before creeping off to join Bravefeather. Once he reached his mentor’s side, they padded out of camp. As he glanced over his shoulder, he caught Mothfall’s eyes before turning away. He hadn’t spoken to her since he’d gone back to his training.

Near the nursery, Meadowstripe lay on his side while Rapidfoot kneaded his paws into his mate’s flank. The gray-and-white tom purred something that Mothfall couldn’t catch, and Meadowstripe swatted him with his tail.

A few tail-lengths away, Smallheart lay on her side, her small size making her pregnant belly even more prominent than Meadowstripe’s. She ran her tail over her own belly, which was rounding from her unborn litter of kits – she’d announced she was expecting Puddlespots’ second litter just a few days after his passing. As Mothfall watched, she sighed and turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut.

Beechtail padded over to Smallheart. The gray-speckled molly cracked open on eye when she heard her approach. “Oh.” She curled up and covered her tail with her eyes. “I’m not talking right now.”

Beechtail’s tail twitched. “I thought I’d check in and see if you needed anything. Do you want some water? Or to go on a walk?”

Smallheart flicked her tail just low enough to glare at Beechtail. “I’m fine. I was just… lost in thought.”

Beechtail nodded and sat down next to her but didn’t speak. After a tense heartbeat of silence, Smallheart murmured, “I want to name one after him.”

“After Puddlespots?” Beechtail asked gently, running her tail over Smallheart’s side.

“Him and Willowgaze.”

Mothfall remembered that he and Grasseyes were Smallheart and Shortleg’s fathers. She’d rarely seen the four of them together, but she could see both her and her sibling’s resemblance to Grasseyes in their speckled pelts. She couldn’t imagine how it must hurt to lose both your mate and your father at once.

“It’s the perfect way to keep his memory alive.” Beechtail rain her tail down the molly’s side soothingly.

Feeling like she was intruding on a private moment, Mothfall turned her attention away from them and towards the front of camp. Her heart sank when she saw who was gathering for the next patrol. Shortleg, Ferntooh, Beelight, and Troutpath. Four cats she hadn’t so much as made eye contact with in moons. She padded up to them, tail curling around her legs as she mumbled, “Briarstreak ordered me on this patrol.”

Troutpath grunted.

“Alright,” Shortleg sighed. “Come along, then. StarClan knows why Briarstreak wants such a large patrol to check out our farthest territory line. It’s not like we’d run the risk of getting into a fight with another Clan.”

Mothfall trailed behind the patrol as they headed out of camp.

The day was warm with Green-leaf. Mothfall breathed in the cool, damp air, thankful that the pine trees kept the worst of the heat at bay. As they continued down the territory line, Troutpath intertwined his tail with Beelight, whispering something in her ear. Shortleg mewed something under his breath to Ferntooth. Mothfall tried to listen, but couldn’t concentrate. She heard the cats’ voices muffling together, and the pine boughs swaying overhead, and kits crying out, and a nearby bird calling, and—

Wait.

Mothfall stopped, straining. She wasn’t certain, but. Yes. “Hey, do you hear that?” she mewed.

The rest of the patrol stopped. “Hear what?”

“I think I hear kits.”

“Kits? This far from any of the Clans' camps?” Troutpath sounded disbelieving.

“Well, they’d be rogue kits, obviously.” Mothfall stepped away from the territory, ears straining. “They’re this way. Follow me.” She charged forward, not waiting for the others to agree or disagree. Her paws smarted as she pushed forward, but after several heartbeats she pulled to a stop. She shook her head, trying to concentrate.

There.

She nosed her way under a bush. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust after the bright sunlight outside, but as her vision cleared she recognized several pairs of eyes blinking up at her.

“You’re not mom,” one voice mewed.

She turned around as she felt more than heard the pawsteps of her Clanmates approaching. “I can hear them now, too,” Beelight mewed.

“They’re under this bush.” Mothfall angled her ears.

Beelight stuck her head underneath, cooing when she saw the kittens. “Hello, darlings! What are you doing out all alone?” When she pulled back, she carried a kitten in her jaws, a gray-and-white tom so skinny his ribs jutted out of his skin. “Poor thing,” she clucked, laying him on the ground. “He’s half starved to death.”

Troutpath wriggled out of the brush and came out with three more at his paws, a light brown tabby, a brown tabby, and a brown and white. “They all are.”

“Do you have a mother?” Beelight cooed, ushering them all close with her tail.

Despite their size, their eyes brightened with understanding as Beelight spoke, and a few of them pressed closer to her eagerly. Mothfall guessed they must be three moons old.

“Momma left a while ago and never came back,” the brown and white molly mewed. She coughed.

“Momma had a cough, too,” the brown tabby added.

“Oh, dear.” Beelight shared an uneasy glance at the patrol. “Do you think she had greencough?”

“She must have.” Shortleg shuffled their paws uncomfortably. “What do we do with them?”

“We should get them fed,” Mothfall mewed. When the others stared at her, she shuffled her paws, awkward at imposing herself, but continued, “Look at how skinny they are. They need food. Shortleg, you go see what you can catch. Ferntooth and Troutpath, go see if you can find any trace of their mother. Beelight, keep them warm.” As another kitten coughed, she added, “I’ll go look for some tansy to help their cough.”

“But Ambereye said you aren’t allowed to go hunting,” Shortleg mewed.

Mothfall rolled her eyes. “What is the tansy going to do, run away when I try and pick it? I’ll be fine.” Without waiting for the others to agree, she loped away, nose twitching as she searched the ground for any sign tansy. After helping Ambereye deal with greencough for so long, she knew its scent like the back of her paw.

It didn’t take long to find some tansy and bring it back to the kits. She found Beelight curled around the kits, tail curled in delight as they told her about their life.

“And then Momma told us to stay in this bush, and she would be back soon!” the brown and white molly declared. “And we’ve been on our own since.”

“Aren’t you brave?” Beelight cooed.

Mothfall dropped the tansy at her paws. “Help me feed this to them.”

With much coaxing, Beelight convinced each of the kits to swallow a leaf. The gray-and-white kit was l amost unresponsive. He didn’t seem weaker than the rest, just uninterested. Mothfall had to chew the tansy and nudged it into his mouth before he swallowed.

Soon after, Shortleg showed up with a rabbit, and they repeated the process all over again. By the time the kits were fed, Ferntooth and Troutpath appeared. Ferntooth’s dark ginger fur was ruffled and littered with leaves, and even Troutpath’s normally smooth fur looked ragged.

“We couldn’t find anything,” he mewed. “She’s gone.”

“Can we keep them?” Beelight pleaeded. “Look at them. Haven’t we been saying we wanted kits? This must be a gift from StarClan.”

Ferntooth and Troutpath looked at Shortleg, who shrugged. “Don’t look at me,” they mewed. “Only Berrystar can be the judge of that.”

“She’ll have to let us keep them,” Ferntooth decided. “Where else would they go?” She knelt down next to the kits, nuzzling them. “Hello, kits. Do you have names?”

The kits looked at each other. “I don’t think so,” the light brown molly mewed.

“Then we’ll give you some.”

“Look at how small they are,” Beelight fretted. “Let’s give them names that will inspire them to grow big and strong.”

Troutpath nodded to the tan tabby. “You look sort of like Seedshade. Same yellow eyes.”

Beelight shook her head. “I don’t want to name one of my kits after her. It’d only make me sad.”

Ferntooth nuzzled the tan tabby. “That white patch on your chest is so striking. What about Blazekit? Do you like that name, little kit?”

The tan kit stopped eating and raised their head long enough to think. “Is that a name for a tom or a molly?”

“Which one do you want it to be?” asked Ferntooth.

The kit shrugged. “Both. Neither. I don’t know.”

“Then that’s what it is.” Ferntooth cupped her paws around the kit, her purrs swelling.

Beelight tilted her head, considering the brown molly, “Her way her fur spikes up reminds me of your mom, Ferntooth. What if we named her Wildkit?”

The name made Mothfall quiver. She can’t remember the last time she had thought about her mother Wildstep, unless Ratpelt was cursing her name.

Ferntooth nodded, tail curling with delight. “I love it. I’m sure my mom would be honored, if she knew.”

Troutpath nudged the brown-and-white molly. “I’d like to call you Runningkit,”

“I like that,” the molly announced. “I can run really fast.”

“I’m sure you can,” Troutpath purred.

“That leaves you, little one,” Beelight nudged the gray-and-white tom again. “You need an extra strong name, to encourage you to grow up strong. I’d love to call you Leopardkit, or Tigerkit, but your colors are all wrong!”

Ferntooth tilted her head. “What about Adderkit?”

“Adderkit?” Troutpath’s whiskers twitched. “That doesn’t work anymore than Tigerkit.”

“Adderkit?” the kit echoed. He chirped and wagged his tail.

“Sounds like you’ve decided for us,” purred Beelight.

Adderkit chirped and wriggled closer to Beelight. 

Blazekit puffed out their chest. “So, do we live with you now? For forever?”

“Yes,” purred Ferntooth. “Forever and ever. Troutpath, Beelight, and I will be your new parents, now.”

“That’s nice. Having three parents is much better than none.” They blinked, then yawned. As if on cue, Runningkit and Wildkit yawned too.

“Let’s get you home, little ones,” Beelight murmured. She picked up one of the kits in her mouth. Ferntooth, Troutpath, and Shortleg picked up the rest, and together the patrol started back towards camp.

Once again, Mothfall trailed behind the others, pelt prickling with apprehension. She knew bringing the kits home was the right choice, but she couldn’t help but feel jealous that Ferntooth had taken to these kits so quickly. She hadn’t looked at Mothfall once, even when she mentioned their mother.

They had barely made it to camp when cats started to turn their way, noticing that they hadn’t come alone. They set the kittens on the ground as cats started to gather around, asking questions and sniffing the kittens with suspicious. Except for Adderkit, who grew even more silent and pressed against Beelight’s paws, the kittens squealed and leapt around their new friends.

“What’s going on?”

Everycat parted to make way for Berrystar as she limped forward, Ambereye fast at her side. His eyes widened when he saw the kittens on the ground, and he stopped in his tracks. At the sight of the huge, imposing leader, all of the kittens quieted, shrinking away from her and staring up at her with wide, frightened eyes.

Berrystar, however, did not seem as impressed. “What are these?”

“Kittens,” Troutpath mewed, padding forward to press against Beelight’s side.

“I can see that,” Berrystar snapped. “But what are they doing here?”

“I found them outside of Clan territory. We looked all over, but couldn’t find any trace of an adult cat nearby. Any caretakers they might have had must have died from greencough.” Beelight mewed evenly.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Beelight raised her chin. “We’re going to raise them.”

“Raise them? But they’re rogues!” Berrystar sniffed, tail lashing back and forth.

Beelight puffed out her chest. She glanced at Troutpath and Ferntooth, pressed on either side of her. “We’ve been talking about starting a family of our own for a while now. I’m not one to spit in the eye of an opportunity when it presents itself.”

“ShadowClan is strong because its blood is pure,” mewed Berrystar. “We’re not taking in _strays_.”

“What?” exclaimed Mothfall. Berrystar glared at her, and she pulled back, but didn’t stop talking. “ShadowClan is strong because we take care of each other. Besides, they’re young. If we raise them as ShadowClan cats, that’s all they’ll know, and they’ll be loyal to ShadowClan.”

“They’re right, Berrystar,” Ambereye mewed quietly. Berrystar whipped her head around to stare at him, eyes widened in surprise.

Ambereye had overcome his shock at the kittens and spoke quietly, now, his head low, but his voice even. “We should take them in. I think… no, I _know_ that this is what StarClan would want.”

Berrystar sniffed. “Fine. We’ll keep them.” Glaring at Beelight, Ferntooth, and Troutpath, she added, “You three are in charge of figuring out how to take care of them.” She limped back to the den, tail lashing.

Troutpath leaned over. “Does she not understand what the point of parenting is?”

Ferntooth purred and headbutted the dark tortoiseshell in amusement.

* * *

That night, Mothfall wandered out of camp on her own. The dark shadows of the pines welcomed her, and she padded through the trees, imagining herself dissolving into little more than a shadow herself.

For a glorious short while, the kittens had distracted her from Ratpelt and his claims to immorality. Now that the excitement had worn off, all of her worries had come crashing back. On top of that, watching Ferntooth gush over her new kits as she introduced them to everycat in the Clan but herself only made the ache in her heart worse.

She wanted to be happy for her sister, she really did. But why did Ferntooth get to have a happy family when all Mothfall got was a moral dilemma? She stopped when she realized her aimless wandering had led her back to the lake shore. She wiggled her white toes as the soft pine needles turned to grass underpaw. She glanced up at the stars overhead.

“You don’t care about my problems, and that’s fine,” she told them. “But at the same time… I wish you did.”

The stars twinkled silently in response.

Mothfall grit her teeth. Maybe Ratpelt being right was a good thing. If he was right, then none of the horrible things that had happened to her meant anything. Her mom leaving, her brother leaving, Pricklepaw’s death, even her own disorder, meant nothing. They were just random accidents that she experienced, and would continue to experience, and one day she would die.

“Mothfall?”

The ginger molly perked her ears, turning around and scanning the forest. Had StarClan answered her?

As she squinted, she caught a familiar scent on the breeze, and she could pick out the familiar dark ginger fur as she stepped out of the forest to stand beside her. “Ferntooth.”

“May I?”

“Oh—Of course.” Mothfall scooted over, and Ferntooth sat down next to her. She gazed out over the lake and the sky above, her dark yellow eyes glistening. The moon was almost full, and its shine made Ferntooth’s dark ginger coat silvery.

Mothfall shuffled her paws, unsure what to say. This was the first time she’d come within three tail-lengths of her sister since Smokeheart had left. “How are you?” she asked.

“Good,” Ferntooth’s mew was brisk and light.

“And the kits?”

“Settling in the nursery with Beelight. It’s too crowded in there for all of us, especially since Rapidfoot refuses to leave Meadowstripe alone. Berrystar would throw a fit if all three of us tried to stop our warrior duties. it’s not like they still need milk.” She twitched her whiskers. “So we’re taking turns.”

“Oh. That makes sense, I guess.” Mothfall wrapped her tail tight around her paws. “Um. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

As Ferntooth turned to meet Mothfall’s gaze for the first time in moons, Mothfall’s heart wrenched. Her sister was happy, yes, any cat could see that, but she could also see the way her whiskers drooped, and her eyelids sagged.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted.

Ferntooth blinked. “What for?”

“Seedshade’s death is my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

Mothfall’s fur prickled and each word stabbed her tongue like thorns as she spat them out. “I did something stupid. I thought I had been doing what was best for my Clan, but I messed up everything up. Because of that, I didn’t get the catmint in time. I failed. Now six cats have died under my watch.”

“Six?” Ferntooth echoed. “But there were only five.”

Mothfall narrowed her eyes. “You forgot Pricklepaw.”

“Pricklepaw?” Ferntooth mewed. She stiffened, and Mothfall looked away, ashamed. She felt warm breath against her as Ferntooth pressed her face against her side. “Moth, that wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course it was! If I had just been a bit faster… If I hadn’t been so clumsy… If I hadn’t frozen and forgotten how to talk… maybe she’d still be here.”

“You know that’s not true. Her spine had broken in three places.”

Mothfall’s fur bristled. “I can’t _know_ anything! All I know is this: I was slow, and clumsy, and now Pricklepaw and five other Clanmates are dead. Smokeheart is _gone_ , and I did nothing to stop it.” She swallowed thickly. “And somewhere along the way, I lost you, too.”

“Oh, Moth.” Ferntooth wrapped her front leg around Mothfall’s shoulders, pressing her close. Mothfall buried her face in her sister’s chest. “I didn’t know that was how you felt.”

“Of course you didn’t. I never told you.”

“I should have asked.”

“I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Do you want to tell me now?”

Mothfall rose to her paws, pushing away from Ferntooth. “At first I thought maybe StarClan had planned it this way. Or if they hadn’t, they at least cared. But now I think it’s all just random, and everything just _happened_!” She growled and lashed her tail. “Which means it’s all my fault.”

Ferntooth flattened her ears. “Moth, listen to yourself.”

“No, _you_ listen,” Mothfall growled. “The world is majorly messed up, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Is that really how you feel?”

“Yeah. It is.”

Ferntooth shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

Mothfall shook her head. She tried to speak, but her tongue felt weighed down, and the only sound she could make was a wordless moan.

Ferntooth looked out over the lake, and the stars that twinkled in its reflection. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you I felt the same way about StarClan?”

“Really?”

Ferntooth shook her head and laughed. “It started with Pricklepaw. How could our ancestors allow something so terrible to happen? But then I thought that maybe it _had_ to happen so that I could find Beelight and Troutpath to be happy. It wasn’t until after Smokeheart left that I realized it was all a load of foxdung I told myself to justify the terrible things that had happened to me.”

Mothfall blinked, surprised.

Ferntooth met her gaze, her dark yellow eyes somber. “I’m not sure I believe in StarClan at all. If they do exist, they certainly aren’t orchestrating the universe’s every move. But that doesn’t matter, because we make our own goodness in the world. Cats deserve kindness because they’re here, and being kind is the right thing to do. Not because being nice earns us good points for the afterlife.” She sighed. “I was mad at you for so long, because Pricklepaw died, and Smokeheart disappeared… You were an easy target, because Dad liked you more, and in my pain I wasn’t afraid to stoop low.”

Mothfall grunted. She dug her paws into the ground. “I should go.”

“No, don’t.” Ferntooth stood up, pleading. “What I’m trying to say is, you deserve kindness too. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. You’ve grown into an amazing cat, and I watched how selflessly you worked to save the lives of cats who didn’t even want to accept your treatment. It’s true, some cats died,” her mew broke, and she took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing, “But just as many lived.”

Mothfall watched her warily, tail ticking. “What are you saying?”

“What I’m saying is that I’d like to be involved in your life again. And if you’d have me, I’d like you to be involved in mine. And my kits’.”

Mothfall blinked. “Your kits?”

“I want them to have good role models growing up. Role models like you, Moth.” Ferntooth mewed. “Who know that doing the right thing means standing up for justice, even when it’s hard. Even when it means talking back to your own leader. When it means helping your Clan, even if they won’t talk to you.” Ferntooth purred, amusement flickering in her eyes.

Warmth flooded Mothfall's heart. She pressed her cheek against her sister's. "Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes. I'd love to be a part of your kits' family."

"I'm so glad," Ferntooth purred so hard her entire body shook.

As Mothfall pulled away, her face fell. "But if we're going to do this, I have to be honest. There's something I haven't told you. Something I haven't told anycat."

Ferntooth met her gaze, her expression serious. “Tell me, then.”

“Those rumors circling camp aren’t true. Dad asked me to do something I wasn’t willing. He’s been trying to tear me down ever since.”

“Oh, Moth,” Fern mewed. “And you never did anything? That's so unlike you."

“I don’t know." Mothfall hung her head, shame burning her fur. "I thought that maybe if I kept my head down and continued to be a good Clanmate, everycat would come to their senses. I guess I was scared what would happen if Dad found out I was speaking poorly of him.”

Ferntooth made a sympathetic noise. “Oh, Moth.” She pressed her face into the mane of ginger fur around Mothfall's neck. “I had heard the rumors, and I’m ashamed to say I believed them. I’m sorry that I thought so poorly of you. But I’ll stand with you now. Anything you need, I’ll be there.”

“And I’ll be there for you and your kits, too.” Mothfall pressed her nose to her sister’s, warmth kindling in her heart.

Pulling back, Mothfall gazed back at the lake, and the stars overhead. If StarClan really had been watching down on her, they wouldn’t have done this. They wouldn’t have separated her from her family, only to bring them back together again.

So maybe StarClan didn’t matter. Maybe that didn’t matter.

She had her family.

They would create their own good in the world.

“Did you mean what you said, about sticking by me, no matter what?”

“Of course.”

“I have an idea, and I could use your help…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay something good happened for once!! This is one of the more fun chapters that I've been really excited to share with y'all. I hope you enjoy because Adderkit is the love of my life and you cannot change my mind!!


	19. The Confession

As Mothfall took her place among the rest of the ShadowClan warriors, she glanced uneasily at the other Clans nearby. This was the first gathering since the sickness had placed its icy paw on the Clans, and she felt uneasy being around so many cats, despite Ambereye’s promise that at the last half-moon, all the medicine cats had confirmed that their sick count had gone down to zero. As the leaders settle themselves on their branches, she noticed other cats glancing around them, too.

She glanced at Tawnywhisker, at her side, trying to gauge how her Clanmate felt. When the sandy-furred molly noticed her watching, she scowled and turned away. Her whiskers sagged and her eyes were duller than normal. Mothfall wondered if it was wise to bring a cat to a gather who was still so clearly mourning the death of both of her father and grandfather.

She turned her attention back towards the leaders as they started to speak. Her eyes widened in horror as each leader listed their dead. _So many cats!_ She bowed her head, shocked. Throughout the crowd, cats cried out or murmured a blessing when a friend’s name was listed.

Berrystar straightened as it became her turn to talk. “ShadowClan, too, has suffered from the greencough outbreak. We mourn the losses of our warriors Puddlespots and Seedshade, our elders Shiningeyes and Willowgaze, and our medicine cat Frogjump.”

Ambereye bent his head as his apprentice was called out, and the other medicine cats nearby murmured their condolences. A brown tabby with ragged fur pressed his nose into Ambereye’s side. Mothfall assumed that was Thornstep, Ambereye’s close friend and one of ThunderClan’s medicine cats.

After the crowd finished calling out and quieted back down, Berrystar continued, “I am sad to announce that greencough has incapacitated my deputy, Briarstreak, and she is no longer fit to perform her duties. She has been of retiring age for some time now, and she enters the elders’ den with grace. By the next gathering, ShadowClan will have a new deputy.”

She lifted her chin, and Briarstreak puffed out her chest as cats from all Clans called out her name. She bent over, coughing, and Beechtail nuzzled her, supporting her until her fit passed.

Sedgestar, a brown tabby cat with a stub tail dipped their head in Briarstreak’s direction. “It will be a shame to see you go, Briarstreak,” they mewed. “You have been a friend to ThunderClan and the rest of the Clans around the lake for seasons.”

Dewstar, a pretty silver tom with a white belly, leaned down from his branch above the other leaders. “I must ask, who will be replacing Briarstreak? I’m dying with curiosity to know which cat has the honor of following in her pawsteps.”

“Unfortunately for you, my medicine cat has cautioned me against naming a deputy before the ceremony. He says it’s bad luck.” Berrystar’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she glanced at Ambereye, who ducked his head in admonishment. “However, I can assure you that I feel confident that our Clan will be safe in our new deputy’s paws.” She glanced towards the gathered ShadowClan cats as she spoke, and Mothfall stiffened as Ratpelt puffed out his chest. The two cats closes to him, Grasseyes and Bravefeather, nudged him with a purr. Grasseyes murmured something too low for Mothfall to hear.

“Well then, next moon cannot come fast enough,” Dewstar dipped his head.

With Berrystar done, the meeting was over, and the cats started to group up together, saying their last goodbyes. The air was warm, and this was the first time everycat had been together in so long; Mothfall could see that none of the leaders were in a hurry to leave. Dewstar pulled aside Berrystar, pawing at her playfully as she asked a teasing question, and Sedgestar laughed, tail curling in amusement as he watched the two talk.

Mothfall stood up, glancing around the crowd. Her face brightened when she spotted a familiar stone-gray molly slipping in between the multi-colored pelts. She pushed forward, determined not to let her out of her sight. “Shortstone!”

Shortstone whipped around at the sound of her name, and her guarded expression brightened when she saw who had called her. “Mothball?” she asked. She rushed forward, meeting the ginger molly halfway and mashing their noses together with a hearty purr. “Heya, Mothball.”

“Hi.” Mothfall blinked in surprise as the stone-gray molly pulled away. “You aren’t mad?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Shortstone tilted her head in confusion. “What you said hurt. But that doesn’t mean I suddenly stop caring about you.”

Mothfall shook her head. “I don’t know. I saw Creekfur the other day, and it was weird.”

“Well, you said yourself that Creekfur’s a weird cat.” Shortstone’s whiskers twitched in amusement.

“it wasn’t like that. It was...” Mothfall sighed. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I was being mousebrained. I’ve lost so many cats that were important to me. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

For an agonizingly long heartbeat, Shortstone didn’t respond. She pressed her face into the mane of fur around Mothfall’s neck. “Of course, I forgive you. If you did something, then you did it because you thought it was the right thing to do. Besides, who could be my Mothball?” Though her mew was teasing, when she pulled away, her face was deadly serious. “But are you okay? I saw Berrystar all but declare your father as the next deputy, and I know your relationship isn’t on the best of terms these days.”

Mothfall glanced in his direction, stomach roiling as she saw he was swarmed by a crowd of cats from all five Clans, preemptively congratulating him.

“Are you going to be okay?” Shortstone pressed.

Mothfall shook her head to clear her thoughts. “No. But I will be. Wish me luck, okay? I’m going to do something really stupid.”

“If you think you need to do it, then it’s not stupid,” Shortstone mewed.

Mothfall purred, but died off when she realized that her friend was being serious. “I know this is a lot to ask, but do you think you could help me out?”

“That depends on what it is.”

“I need you to talk to Creekfur,” mewed Mothfall. “Believe it or not, she’s a key part of my stupid plan. But I can’t ask her myself, because she’s not talking to me.” She glanced towards the part of the island where RiverClan gathered, wrapping her tail tighter around her paws as she picked out Creekfur among the crowd. The molly’s silver stripes glowed in the moonlight as she caught up with a group of warriors from all of the Clans. The cat next to her, a large, blue-furred RiverClan tom with scars running across his face, made a comment. Despite his flat expression, Creekfur’s whiskers twitched in amusement.

Shortstone followed Mothfall’s gaze. “FunClan didn’t take the news so well.”

“It’s really important that Creekfur helps,” Mothfall urged. She leaned close, and in hushed tones, explained her plan.

When she finshed, Shortstone’s eyes grew wide. “Whoa.”

“Will you tell her?”

“I will.” Shortstone dipped her head. “So, I guess this is it, then? Um, good luck. Let me know how it goes.”

“Wait.” Mothfall stepped forward and pressed her nose to Shortstone’ forehead. “I want you there when it happens.”

“Really?” Shortstone shrank back, eyes flashing with surprise. “Me? But I’m not really involved—”

“It would make me feel better,” Mothfall pressed, “If I knew I had your support.”

Shortstone blinked, then nodded, hardened resolve. “You can count on me. Always.”

* * *

Mothfall could hardly sleep that night. She kept tossing and turning, every bad horrible outcome running through her mind like a scatterbrained hare.

Eventually, Bravefeather swipe his paw at her, shoving her back. “Stay still, or leave the den,” he hissed.

Mothfall shrank back into her nest and squeezed her eyes shut. She barely remembered her dreams, if she had slept at all, before she was roused by her denmates waking up and stirring around her. As she stretched, something stuck in her nest caught her eye; she pawed at it until she had dug up a small, wooden lump, a little larger than her paw, with a cord winding around it.

The wooden moth Dapplecall had made for her. A small, white flower nestled beside it. Seeing them filled Mothfall with resolve. She wasn’t doing this for herself. She was doing this for her family.

She stumbled into Ambereye’s den, but the golden-brown tom took one look at her before shaking his head. “You look like you’ve just had a run-in with a badger,” he chided, pushing her backwards out of the den. “You shouldn’t be doing your exercises. You should be sleeping.”

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Mothfall admitted, tail curling around her legs.

Ambereye’s gaze softened. “Is everything alright?”

She flicked her ear. “I don’t know. I’m doing something tonight, and I’m nervous.”

“Do you think it’s the right thing to do?”

“Of course.”

“Then you’ll be fine.”

Mothfall shook her fur out. “Do you have anything that’ll calm me down?”

Ambereye side-eyed her, "You're a strong cat, Mothfall. You shouldn't need any herbs just because you're a bit nervous."

'A bit nervous' seemed like an understatement for the turmoil in her belly, but she nodded stiffly and tried not to look too disappointed. "Okay."

Briarstreak chose that moment to push past Mothfall into the medicine den. “Good morning,” Ambereye mewed.

Briarstreak grunted. “It’ just the same as it always is for me. Whether or not it’s ‘good’ doesn’t make a lick of difference. I’m here for my tansy.”

“Of course, Briarstreak.” Ambereye dipped inside the den, and when he came back out again he dropped a few small leaves at the deputy’s paws. “I put some honey on them. That should help soothe your throat.

She lapped them up, shuddering as she swallowed. “Great. I’m leaving now.”

Mothfall stepped back to allow her to pass, dipping her head in respect. The older warrior flicked her ear as she passed. “You smell like herbs, but what else is new? If you’re not doing your stretches, then come with me. I’m organizing patrols.”

Mothfall glanced at Ambereye, who shook his head and smiled, before following Briarstreak to the center of camp where she organized patrols. Rapidfoot stumbled out of the nursery, yawning; he still performed his warrior duties, though he preferred to sleep with his mate, Meadowstripe, ever since he moved into the nursery. He settled down next to Bravefeather and Shortleg, twisting around to smooth down his fur as he waited.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Mothfall went on patrol, and went on patrol again, and helped Ambereye gather herbs. Her paws itched every time she tried to sit down. She wouldn’t have been able to sit still if her life depended on it.

Eventually, the Clan gathered for their evening sharing tongues, and the sky purpled and darkened. The air had warmed into a beautiful Green-leaf, and cats lingered outside, unwilling to go back in. Beechtail and Heavysong slipped out of camp together, tails intertwined. After a few heartbeats later, inspired by their idea, Meadowstripe and Rapidfoot followed, leaving a haggard Smallheart by herself outside of the nursery.

“Can I join you?”

Mothfall glanced at her sister as she approached. “How are the kits?”

“They’re settling in just fine. They’re such a pawful! I can’t imagine how most parents do this in groups of two.” She glanced at Smallheart. “Or by themselves, poor thing.”

Mothfall whisked her tail around herself. “I’ve known cats who’ve done it before. She’ll be fine. she has her Clan to support her.”

Ferntooth flicked her tail against Mothfall’s side. “Since when did you grow so wise, oh mighty sister?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry for wrapping you up in my motherhood issues. I meant to ask you how you were doing.”

“I’m as fine as I can be, I suppose.”

Ferntooth nuzzled her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Having your support has been more than enough.”

“It’s a bold plan,” Ferntooth shuddered. “I can’t imagine being as brave as you’re about to be.”

“You would be, if it was for your mates or kits,” Mothfall assured her. “I’m doing this for my family, too.”

“Your family?” Ferntooth echoed.

“I want your kits to grow up safe.”

“I can't thank you enough for that.” Ferntooth pressed her nose to Mothfall's cheek. As she pulled back, she angled her ears towards the leader’s den, where Berrystar was sharing tongues with Grasseyes and Ambereye. The three of them were talking in hushed tones, and Grasseyes puffed his chest out and nudged the medicine cat. “You should probably get going.”

“You’re right.” Mothfall rose to her paws. She pressed her nose to Ferntooth.

Ferntooth dipped her head. She pressed her face against Mothfall’s chest. “Good luck.”

Paws tingling, Mothfall took her leave. She approached the older warriors uneasily, dipping her head in respect as she came close. Ambereye was the first to take notice of her; he beckoned her over with a sweep of his tail. “What is it?”

“Um. I was wondering if I could talk to Berrystar,” Mothfall mewed.

Berrystar pulled herself away from Grassyes, frowning as she looked Mothfall up and down. “What is it?”

She shuffled her paws. “Outside of camp, I mean.” She mewed. “It’s private. But I think Briarstreak should hear what I have to say, too.”

“Careful, or she might be whisking you away to involve you in her nefarious plots,” Grasseyes mewed. His inflection was deadpan, as usual, and Mothfall wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

Berrystar sighed, but pushed herself to her paws. “Alright, Mothfall. It’s my duty to hear my Clanmates’ concerns, so I’ll hear you out. At least you’ve learned from your brother’s mistakes, and aren’t jumping immediately to drastic action.”

Mothfall winced, but held her tongue. She glanced at Ambereye, who smiled when he caught your eye. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I have every faith in you that it’ll work out.”

Warmth flooding through her paws, Mothfall rushed after her leader towards the entrance to camp. they passed Briarstreak, who was stretched out on the ground, listening to Bravefeather tell her a story When Berrystreak barked out her name, the blind warrior rolled to her paws. Her kit stretched called out a goodbye as she padded after her leader.

Her nose wrinkled as she fell in-step beside Mothfall. “It’s you.”

“I have something I need to tell you and Berrystar in private.”

Briarstreak grunted.

Outside the camp, Berrystar stopped and swung around to face Mothfall. “Alright, what is it?”

“Actually,” Mothfall began, fumbling under the burning gaze of her leader. “I had a specific spot in mind.”

“Really?” Briarstreak rasped, coughing. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not much for physical activity these days.”

“You made it all the way to the gathering last night,” Mothfall mewed. “This will be easy. Come on.” She padded in the direction of the RiverClan border. Behind her, she could heard Berrystar grunt as she pulled herself to her paws. She and Briarstreak supported each other as they limped after the ginger molly.

At one point, Briarstreak stopped, wracked with a heaving coughing fit, but Mothfall wound around her and urged her forward. “We’re almost there.”

“Berrystar, I think your warrior is trying to stage a ShadowClan invasion on RiverClan,” Briarstreak mewed drily, but she didn’t protest as she shuffled forward.

As the reeds lining the RiverClan border came into view, Mothfall raised her tail, motioning for the leader and deputy to stop. “Okay, this is it.”

Berrystar stopped, and Briarstreak sat down with a thud. She sat up, raising her chin proudly, but she could do little to hide her rasping as she gasped for air.

Mothfall angled her ears forward. Where was Shortstone? Her heart lifted as she spotted the small molly crouching by a clump of reeds by the halfbridge. When she caught Mothfall’s eye, she shook her head. Mothfall’s heart sank. Creekfur wasn’t coming, then. She was on her own.

Mothfall grit her teeth and faced her leader and deputy. “I have something to tell you.”

“I gathered,” Berrystar mewed drily. “Go on, then.”

“A few moons ago, Ratpelt told me he wanted to court a WindClan molly named Shortstone.”

“Well? Did he?”

“No, but only because I stopped him.”

Berrystar flicked her ear. “I don’t see the problem, then.”

Briarstreak whisked her tail against Berrystar’s side. “I think Mothfall might be jealous that with her father earning the deputyship, the attention won’t be so fixated on her and her… _misgivings_.” She flicked her paw out as she spoke. “First she took forever to become a warrior, ignoring our suggestions to help, then she starts spreading all of these nasty rumors, and now she tries to dethrone our beloved Ratpelt? It sounds like she’s desperate to get attention.”

“That’s not it at all!” Mothfall protested. “Don’t you understand? I’m trying to tell you that Ratpelt is a bad cat, and he’d make a poor leader.”

“Nonsense,” Briarstreak rasped, “he’s done an excellent job of stepping in for me already.”

“Besides,” Berrystar mewed. “If we want to talk about codebreaking, why don’t we talk about you, hmm?”

“Me?” Mothfall gaped. She stepped back, cowering under her leader’s gaze.

“You think I don’t notice how you sneak out every half-moon and come back smelling like other Clan cats?” Berrystar growled.

“I don’t do that anymore,” Mothfall mumbled. “I… I realized it was wrong, and I had to put my Clan first. I told them I wasn’t coming anymore.”

Berrystar grumbled, but sat down. “I suppose I can’t blame you for something you decided to stop doing, if I’m doing the same for Ratpelt.” She motioned for Mothfall to continue.

Mothfall took a deep breath. She dug her claws into the soft grass underpaw so that they couldn’t see her tremble. “The problem isn’t whether or not Ratpelt broke the code,” she began, “It’s his moral compass. For lack of a better word, it’s broken. All of those rumors circulating camp about me? I never did any of those things. Ratpelt made up those lies, so that no cat would trust me.”

Briarstreak grunted. “How convenient for you.”

Mothfall glared at her, before remembering that the old molly couldn’t see, and probably didn’t care either way. “His sense of right and wrong was always crooked, but things took a turn for the worse after Pricklepaw died. He told me that his actions didn’t have consequences, because StarClan didn’t care. Do you know why he wants to be deputy?” Mothfall took a deep breath. This was it. She pounded in each word, as she started to wound around the two cats, spitting her words like they were poison. “He wants to be deputy so that he can bend cats to his will. He wants to be deputy, and leader after, so that he can get cats to do whatever he wants. He told me so himself. This isn’t just a cat who breaks the warrior code. This is a cat who cheats, and lies, and manipulates other cats to his will to get what he wants. This is a cat who breaks the _moral_ code.”

She stepped back, sitting back down and nodding curtly when neither cat responded. Briarstreak shook her head, as if waking up from a coma, and Berrystar lashed her tail.

The black-and-white molly rose to her paws. “Thank you for telling us,” Berrystar mewed.

“That’s it? Aren't you going to do something? Don’t you understand the importance of what I’m saying?” Mothfall protested.

“I understand that you’re making some very serious accusations with no evidence to back you up,” snapped Berrystar. She turned around, flicking her tail against Mothfall as she started to pad away.

“I _am_ giving you evidence!” Mothfall yowled. “You just aren’t listening to me!”

“Goodbye, Mothfall,” Berrystar mewed. “We’ll be discussing your punishment for your indolent behavior in the morning.”

Mothfall gaped as her and Briarstreak padded towards the forest. Her hind legs thumped onto the ground, unable to stand any longer. This was supposed to be her big moment. And it didn’t work.

“If you won’t listen to her, maybe you’ll listen to me.”

Berrystar and Briarstreak stopped in their tracks. They turned around, ears angled towards the RiverClan border. Mothfall followed their gaze, and her heart skipped a beat. The reeds rustled, and a pretty white molly with silver stripes stuck her head out and padded into view. She toed the border as she sat down, bowing her head in respect. “Berrystar. Briarstreak.”

A heartbeat later, another cat followed. At first Mothfall stiffened in fear, until she recognized the light brown coat and bright yellow eyes of Creekfur’s kit. He blinked in recognition at Mothfall, but eyed both Berrystar and Briarstreak with apprehension.

“Greetings,” Creekfur mewed. “My name is Creekfur, and I’m a warrior of RiverClan. This is my son, Mousewhisper.”

Briarstreak opened her mouth to get a better smell of the newcomers. Berrystar sniffed. “And to what do we owe you the pleasure?”

Creekfur swept her son close to her with her tail. “I’d heard you would be interested in learning about my kit’s father. You see, I’ve raised him on my own, but for a brief time, I courted one of your warriors. One you’re about to pick as your deputy and next leader. Ratpelt.”

Berrystar grunted. “I don’t see what this has to do with anything. Clearly, whatever happened between you two is in the past. I don’t see why one mistake moons ago has to do with anything.

“Don’t you understand?” Mothfall leapt to her paws, unable to stay silent when Berrystar was so close and yet so far to understand everything. “Look at Mousewhisper! He’s almost as old as I am!”

“So?”

“So he didn’t just take a RiverClan mate, he was actively cheating on my _mom_ with her.” She met Berrystar’s gaze, eyes blazing. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Creekfur wince. Mousewhisper pressed against her.

“This wasn’t a one-time mistake,” Creekfur mewed. “It was calculated. I was already struggling to find my place in RiverClan, as a young warrior without many friends. My parents had recently passed away, you see, and it was hard to come to terms with their loss. Ratpelt saw my weakness, and he exploited it. He turned me against my Clan, and told me that I could trust no one but him. He made me feel worthless. He made me believe I was nothing without him.”

Mousewhisper trembled, and Creekfur paused to lick his head and nuzzle him close. When she spoke again, she kept her eyes close and her voice low. “It wasn’t until I was pregnant with Mousewhisper that I realized my mistake. I couldn’t bear the thought of Ratpelt making my kit feel like he made me. I broke things off with him. And thank the stars I could use my pregnancy as an excuse to stay in camp, because the way Ratpelt looked, I thought he wanted to murder me. Eventually, I found my own friends, and I learned how to respect myself again. But Ratpelt? I have no respect for that dirty, mange-eating foxheart. There is no good in his heart. Only greed.” As she came to an end, she curled her lip.

Stunned silence met her speech. Creekfur opened her eyes and looked from Berrystar to Briarstreak. The two had pressed up against each other as she spoke, and now Briarstreak shook herself, as if trying to clear her head.

“Thank you for telling us, Creekfur.” Berrystar glanced at Briarstreak. “We have a lot to discuss. If you’re done, then we’re going to leave. On our own.”

That was it, then. She couldn’t do anything more. Mothfall kept her head low, not watching as the two cats limp away from the border.

She didn’t move until she heard pawsteps approaching from the other direction and the sweet scent lavender and windswept-earth washed over her. Shortstone pressed her face against Mothfall’s side, and when she pulled back, her pale eyes were wide with shock. “Did he really do all of those things?” she whispered.

Mothfall nodded. She wrapped her tail tight around her paws. “He did. Did you hear everything? I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to, from so far away.”

“Don’t worry, I heard plenty.” Shortstone’s gaze darkened. “He really wanted to _court_ me?”

Again, Mothfall nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, stars.” Shortstone buried her face in Mothfall’s side again. “Every word you said was worse than the last. I can’t imagine a worse cat to have as a father.”

“They say Tigerstar was pretty bad,” mewed Mothfall. She’d intended it as a joke, but when Shortstone didn’t react, she sighed and pulled away.

She looked up to the sound of approaching pawsteps. Creekfur dipped her head at Shortstone, but when she turned to Mothfall, her eyes were icy. “That was bold of you, to ask me to help after what I said last time.”

“I knew you would understand how important this was,” Mothfall breathed.

“Luckily for you, I could see past my hatred for you to understand the bigger picture,” Creekfur lashed her tail. “I didn’t do this for you, Mothfall. Don’t be mistaken. I did this for myself, and for Mousewhisper. He deserves to live in a world without that foxheart’s name staining his paws.”

Mothfall started to protest, then lowered her head. Her fur burned with shame. “I understand.”

“Good.”

When Mothfall raised her head again, Creekfur had disappeared. The only sign of her presence was the faint smell of fish, and a slight wave in the reeds by RiverClan’s border.

Mothfall sighed. “I should probably head back.”

Shortstone headbutted Mothfall. “What happens now? Do you think they’ll listen?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I guess we’ll know soon. Briarstreak is officially stepping down tomorrow.”

“I wish I could be there,” Shortstone murmured.

“You will be,” Mothfall assured her. She rubbed her cheek against the stone-gray molly’s. “In spirit.”

“In spirit,” Shortstone echoed. Hang on.” She bent down and plucked a flower from the ground. She tucked it in between Mothfall’s ears. “There. Now I’ll be with you, wherever you go.”

“I still have your old flower,” Mothfall whispered.

“Gross,” Shortstone stuck her tongue out. “I bet it’s old and rotten by now.”

“Of course,” teased Mothfall. “It’s as old and withered as your heart.”

Shortstone headbutted Mothfall, purring. Shortstone pulled back, glanced across the lake towards WindClan territory. “You promise you’ll be safe.”

“I’ll let you know what happens as soon as I can.”

“That wasn’t an answer,” mewed Shortstone, as she turned towards the lake shore and her home, “but I’ll take that as a yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much drama!! We love to see it! It's all drama from here on out! 
> 
> A few weeks ago, I ended up completely rewriting my climax scene, which meant that stuff got moved around and I ended up adding an extra chapter. So, we now have 20 chapters plus an epilogue. I keep nitpicking at my work, because I'm never satisfied with my conclusions, so hopefully for my sake that doesn't change between here and the next three installments, haha.
> 
> The cat Creekfur is talking to at the gathering is my friend Shay's warrior oc, Riverwhisper! We were talking about how River would get along horribly with Moth (but very well with Creekfur) so I decided to give him a little cameo for fun.


	20. The Trial

By the time Mothfall dragged herself back to camp, she was ready to sink into her nest and sleep for a moon. Now that the adrenaline from her meeting, which she had been psyching herself up for all moon, had worn off, her paws and fur ached. She couldn’t focus well enough to judge the distance between herself and anything else, and she kept banging her paws against loose roots and pebbles as she limped home.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice Ambereye waiting just outside the entrance for her. The medicine cat was talking to the camp guard, Birdsong, but he perked up when he saw her approach.

“Mothfall!” the golden-brown tom called out. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He whisked her inside, tail resting over her shoulders. “How are you?” he asked in a low voice. “How did it go?”

Mothfall shook her head. “It’s too soon to tell.”

“Berrystar and Briarstreak didn’t look very happy when they came back to camp.”

“I was afraid of that.”

He padded forward. “Come on, sleep in the medicine den with me tonight. I could use the company. Briarstreak took one look at me and insisted on sleeping in the warriors' den tonight.” His whiskers twitched in amusement. 

Affection warmed Mothfall’s heart as she padded after the medicine cat, who had given her the perfect excuse to get out of an uncomfortable situations with Briarstreak. She drank in the familiar scents of the medicine den, easily sinking into her old nest. She placed Shortstone’s flower at the edge of her nest, and breathed in its scent as she settled in. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“Nonsense. I’m doing this purely for myself. I missed having your company in the medicine den.” Ambereye tutted. He curled up in his own nest across from hers.

Despite how badly sleep beckoned her, she knew she couldn't answer its calls just yet. She squirmed in her nest. “I have to tell you something.”

Ambereye raised his head. His eyes, one amber, one so muddy it was almost brown, flashed in the low light. “What is it?”

“You know how you asked me if I did all of those horrible things, and I said I had? That was a lie. I’d never done any of them. My father started those rumors, and I was trying to protect him.”

She expected Ambereye to laugh, or call her mousebrained, or say that she was lying. But instead, he nodded. “Why are you telling me the truth now?”

“Because I don’t care about protecting my father anymore,” Mothfall mewed darkly. “And I should’ve trusted you to handle the truth.”

Again, Ambereye nodded. “I can’t force cats to accept my help,” he mewed. “But if you want it now, then I’ll give it to you. I always will.”

Heart quieting, exhaustion overtook Mothfall, and she closed her eyes. Within heartbeats she was asleep, cloaked in darkness.

* * *

By the time she woke up the next morning, Ambereye had disappeared. Mothfall stretched and stumbled out of the den in time to see Ambereye exit the warriors’ den, a grumbling Briarstreak at his heels. She smacked her lips, probably trying to ignore the lingering taste of her morning medicine. Once again, Mothfall felt a burst of affection for Ambereye, who had gone out of his way to keep Briarstreak from entering the medicine den.

As Ambereye approached, he touched his nose to hers in greeting. “Morning,” he mewed. “I talked to Briarstreak. She’s giving you the day off.”

Mothfall’s whiskers twitched. “How much do you want to bet she doesn’t want to deal me after I delivered the bad news last night?”

Ambereye purred. “Whatever it is, I wouldn’t bite the paw that feeds you. Take advantage of your little holiday.”

“Of course.” Mothfall started to pad towards the nursery, but halfway there she veered towards the warriors’ den. She tiptoed over Birdsong, Grasseyes, Beechtail, and Shortleg, who were still asleep after a night of guarding or patrolling.

She nosed out her nest, and rooted for it. When she found her moth token, she nudged it, breathing in its comforting scent. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to Shortstone last night, but the flower she had given her so many moons ago was little more than dust, now. 

She picked up the token in her mouth, moving to put the cord over her neck, but decided against it. Instead, she wrapped it around her tail, so that the token poked out of her fur from the side of her tail. She tucked the flower Shortstone had given her last night in between the cords. Her fur was so long that it was barely noticeable, but knowing it was there warmed her heart. Her Clanmates would think it looked silly, but today, she needed all of the support she could get.

Toeing back out of the den, she made a beeline for the nursery. The kits were out playing, now, and when Ferntooth spotted Mothfall, she grinned and bounded over. “How’d it go?”

“Ambereye wanted to know the same thing,” Mothfall purred as she rubbed her face against her sister’s. “I wish I could tell either of you anything.”

Mothfall and Ferntooth managed to finish most of their morning meal before their peace and quiet was disturbed by the kits. Blazekit, Runningkit, and Wildkit ran around them, calling each other names and tackling each other. When Blazekit pushed a stumblign Runningkit straight into Mothfall's side, almost knocking her over, Ferntooth rose to her paws. "Kits, that's enough. Your aunt doesn't need to be killed before she finishes eating breakfast."

"No, it's fine," Mothfall assured her sister before she could whisk the kits away. "Maybe talking to them is a good distraction. I can look after then, if you want."

"Are you sure?" Ferntooth's eyes grew wide. "They can be quite a pawful."

"I'm sure. They can't be any worse than when we were kits."

Ferntooth pressed her face against Mothfall's. "Thank you," she whispered. She shook out her dark ginger fur before padding over to Beelight and Troutpath. Her mates purred as she approached, and she flopped down in between them, grinning as they nuzzled her. 

"Are you watching over us now?" Blazekit called out. They puffed their chest out, white spot on their chest flashing, as Mothfall glanced back in their direction. The kits had grown quickly since they had joined the Clan, and they were almost as big as her now. Runningkit and Wildkit gathered around their sibling, blinking up at Mothfall with large, innocent eyes. 

She didn't mind looking after them; it would give her something to do to distract the roiling in her belly. She wasn't used to waiting on other cats to make decisions, and it didn't agree with her. As she readjusted her footing to better address the kittens, her paw buckled underneath her, and she winced. "We can play any game you want," she assured them. "But first, I need to do my morning stretches."

"Morning stretches?" Asked Wildkit, stepping over Runningkit to press closer. 

"I have a coordination disorder. I have some trouble with my motor control, and these exercises are supposed to help."

"Can we try?" Wildkit asked, her yellow eyes wide.

"You should! You have terrible coordination!" Runningkit teased, pushing her sister over. As Wildkit stumbled, the brown-and-white molly snickered.

"Don't fight," Mothfall chided them, pushing Runningkit away from her sister with her paw. "Yes, you can all try them. You don't need a disorder to try. Follow along. See?" She stretched her paw out, stretching her claws as far as they would go, and then scrunching them together as tight as possible. The kits pushed together, eager to see and try for themselves. 

However, it didn't take long for their training to turn into a wrestling match, and Mothfall watched with amusement as they tumbled away. 

She flicked her ear, wondering why Adderkit wasn't joining in with his littermates. She spotted him sitting silently by the nursery; he was nosing at a leaf, pouring over it and feeling every nook and cranny with his paws. Mothfall wondered if he had trouble seeing, or if he was interested in medicine cat. She rose to her paws, intending to go talk to the lonely gray-and-white kit. She was interrupted by a squealing sound, and Blazekit wriggled out of WIldkit and Runningkit's dogpile. “Berrystar’s standing under the Pinebranch!” she squealed. “Does that mean we’re going to be made apprentices?”

“Already!” squealed Wildkit. “So fast!”

“No way, mousebrains. We're not old enough yet!” Runningkit chided. The three kits scampered over to join Ferntooth, Troutpath, Beelight, and Adderkit by the nursery. The three parents whisked their kits close with their tails, shushing them quiet. 

Mothfall padded forward to join the rest of the cats gathering in front of Berrystar. She hadn’t called them together, but Blazekit's announcement must have been loud enough, because every cat from the Clan was already waiting.

The moment of truth had arrived.

Berrystar scanned the crowd before speaking. “Today is a historic day in ShadowClan history. Today, our beloved deputy Briarstreak is officially stepping down from her post as deputy.” She waited while several cats cheered, and Briarstreak puffed out her chest, grinning.

“But first,” Berrystar continued, “I have another important ceremony to make. As we are all aware, Ambereye has sadly been without an apprentice ever since Frogjump passed.”

Mothfall stiffened. Was Berrystar going to punish her by banning her to the medicine den?

“One of our senior warriors has offered to step in as Ambereye’s apprentice, either until he retires or until Ambereye can find a cat willing to succeed him. Grasseyes, step forward.”

The light-speckled tom stepped forward, chin held high as he approached his leader. The black-and-white molly considered him before mewing. “Grasseyes, you have served your Clan as one of my most loyal senior warriors for many seasons. You have a lovely family, soon to grow even bigger,” as she spoke, Shortleg nudged Smallheart, who looked up from her haggard paws to blink wearily at her father, “And you have already lived a full life. Is it your desire to learn the ways of a medicine cat?”

“It is,” Grasseyes nodded.

“Then from this day forth, you will train as a medicine cat. Ambereye, you will be his mentor.”

Ambereye stepped forward and pressed his nose to Grasseyes’. When the speckled cat stepped back, his eyes shined.

“Willowgaze would be so proud of you,” Ambereye murmured. "I know this isn't what you had originally planned, but it's a good path for you."

The Clan broke out into cheers, calling Grasseyes’ name. He dipped his head towards his Clanmates before sitting back down. Acorntuft headbutted him, clearly proud of his friend.

“Briarstreak?”

The dark brown molly moved in front of her leader. She faced Berrystar, ears angled forward intently.

“You have served as my faithful deputy, and as one of my closest friends, for many seasons. Briarsreak, is it your wish to give up the status of a deputy and join the elders?”

Briarstreak lifted her chin. She coughed, but didn’t lower her head. “It is.”

“Your Clan honors you and all the service you have given to us. I call upon StarClan to give you many moons of rest.” Berrystar stepped forward and pressed her nose to Briarstreak’s forehead. When she stepped back, her eyes glittered in a rare display of emotion.

The black-and-white molly waited for the cheering to die down before speaking again. “It is time to announce our new deputy.”

She motioned for Ratpelt to step forward, and the wiry brown tabby stood next to her. He puffed his chest out, and he looked over his Clanmates with pride glittering in his eyes. No, not pride. Greed.

Mothfall shuddered. She glanced behind her at Ferntooth, who swept her tail, bringing Runningkit and Adderkit close, and to the other side of the clearing, where Ambereye was watching by the medicine den. He kept his gaze fixed on Berrystar, his expression unreadable.

“Before I anoint our new deputy, I have an announcement to make.” Berrystar lifted her chin. “Ratpelt, you are one of our loyal warriors. You stepped in when Briarstreak was sick, and have been a great help to me over these past few moons.”

Mothfall shook her head. Was this really happening? Had her invention last night meant nothing?

“I say these words so that StarClan may hear and approve of my choice. Ratpelt--”

Mothfall leapt to her paws, ready to stop Berrystar before it was too late, but another cat beat her to it. 

"Hang on, Berrystar." Briarstreak rasped. “Don’t you remember what we talked about? Did you think you could sneak in a deputy ceremony without my noticing? I may be blind, but I’m not deaf.”

Berrystar flicked her ear, rocking back on her paws in what was probably her way of looking admonished. “You’re right, of course. You know I value your opinion, and I'd never go against your wishes.”

"Seems like you were about to do just that," Briarstreak rumbled.

“Hang on. Briarstreak is right about what?” Grasseyes leaned forward.

Berrystar’s gaze locked on Mothfall’s. She squirmed as the rest of the Clan turned to stare at her. Bracing herself, she called out, “Ratpelt’s a _traitor_.”

Bravefeather leapt to his paws. “How can that be? Ratpelt’s never done anything to hurt _me_!”

Specklefur’s fur bristled. “Ratpelt taught me everything I know about the warrior code! How can he be a traitor?”

“Quiet,” Berrstar rumbled. The Clan quieted down, though several cats continued to mutter under their breath. Glancing behind her, Mothfall saw Ferntooth squirm in her seat. Her kits stared at their parents and at Berrystar and at Ratpelt, old enough to understand that something bad was happening, but not old enough to understand what.

Berrystar angled her ears towards Ratpelt. The tom jutted his chin out, as confident as ever. When he locked eyes with Mothfall, his tail flicked. She shuddered.

Briarstreak stood up. “I’ve heard on good authority that Ratpelt is a faithless, cheating foxheart, who manipulated and lied to many of our Clanmates. He intends to be leader not to lead our Clan to greatness, but to spoil himself with its power.”

“On whose good authority?” called out Specklefur.

“Isn’t it obvious?” jeered Ratpelt. “Clearly, it’s Mothfall’s. You’ve all heard about the horrible things she’s done. Now she’s trying to defame _me_ , her own father, who took care of her when no cat would!”

Mothfall backed up, her ginger fur fluffing out in alarm as the cats closest to her, Tawnywhisker, Heavysong, and Snailwhisper, all turned to growl at her.

“ShadowClan, do _not_ fall to chaos,” Berrystar warned. “We’re better than this.”

“Yeah, but is _she_?” growled Snailwhisper.

“She took so long to become a warrior,” Smallheart hissed. “And I know it was no fault of my littermate’s excellent training. Are we sure she’s fit to be a warrior at all?”

“Or a member of ShadowClan?” challenged Snailwhisper. “Where did her so-called disability come from? Certainly not from her father, a _loyal_ warrior.”

“Maybe from her runaway mother.”

Ferntooth yowled wordlessly. She moved to leap forward and protect her sister, but Troutpath and Beelight held her back. She growled and lashed her tail, and called out, “Ratpelt is our father! He raised us since we were kits! Why would she want to defame him, unless she was telling the truth?”

Mothfall shrank back, but she unsheathed her claws and bared her teeth. She didn’t want to fight her Clanmates, her _family_. But if push came to shove, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“I believe Mothfall.”

A hush fell over the crowd. Moth craned her head. Her gaze fell upon a familiar golden-brown tabby, staring down the crowd with a stern gaze, one eye brown, the other amber.

Berrystar flicked her tail in the direction of the medicine cat. “Go on, Ambereye.”

The medicine cat surveyed the crowd. “I have taken care of Mothfall ever since she was a young apprentice. In all of my moons of knowing her, she’s never been anything but hardworking and loyal. Surely you are not all so shortsighted to forget how when _you_ were sick with greencough, she worked until she collapsed to protect you?”

Around Mothfall, cats pulled back, considering the medicine cat’s words.

“You don’t have to like Mothfall to believe she’s telling the truth. Tell me, has anycat here actually heard her say something mean, about anycat, to your face?”

A low murmur rippled through the gathered cats. Blazekit yelled, “Mothfall is fun! She showed me how to do her stretches!” Troutpath brushed his dark, ginger-flecked tail over the tan kit’s muzzle, shushing them.

With a groan, Briarstreak rose to her paws. “Let me ask you this. Who are you going to believe? Your former deputy and medicine cat? Or some warrior who has everything to lose?” she coughed. “Believe me, I didn’t want to believe Mothfall either. But she got me thinking, and I realized that Ratpelt never seemed to talk to me unless he wanted something. He never asked me how I was doing, unless he followed up with, ‘and can I go to the gathering tonight?’”

Mothfall never thought she would be so grateful to hear Briarstreak speak. She dipped her head in the old brown molly’s direction before remembering that she couldn’t see, and probably didn’t care what Mothfall thought anyways.

Ratpelt frowned. “I only ever wanted what was best for the Clan,” he mewed, voice as smooth and controlled as ever. “Are you really going to let a warrior barely out of the apprentices’ den tell you what to think? Or will you trust what you’ve seen with your own eyes?” He turned to Berrystar, eyes glittering. “What will you do, Berrystar? Who will you trust?”

“I won’t do anything.” Berrystar stepped forward. “It seems that, with leader and deputy divided, the fairest outcome is one that the Clan decides. We’ll hold a vote. Cats who stand on my right vote to call Ratpelt our deputy. Cats who stand on my left vote to call Ratpelt a traitor to the Clans. Ratpelt, Mothfall, Ambereye and I will remain impartial. Mothfall, come sit with us, if you please.” She scanned the crowd. “You too, Grasseyes. I know you haven’t started your training yet, but as a medicine cat, you shouldn’t vote, either. Oh, yes, and the kits. They may stay with their parents, but their vote won't count. Only the votes of warriors, apprentices, queens, and elders shall count.”

Ratpelt’s eye twitched as Grasseyes stalked over and thudded down beside him. As Mothfall padded over, squeezing herself in between Berrystar and Ambereye, she heard the tom whisper, “I would have voted in your favor, you know.”

Mothfall's stomach heaved. She thought she might vomit, but as Ambereye brushed his tail against her side, she took a deep breath and found the strength to carry on. She eyed her Clanmates, no longer certain who she could trust. 

“You may begin,” Berrystar called.

For a moment, no cat moved. They all glanced at each other silently. Mothfall held her breath. Ambereye brushed his tail against her side in a comforting manner.

Briarstreak padded to Berrystar’s left. “I think I’ve made myself perfectly clear about where I stand,” she growled.

Ferntooth stepped forward. “Ratpelt purposely drove a wedge between Mothfall and I as kits. At the time I was too upset to understand what was going on. Now I see that he wanted Mothfall to feel alone, so she would be easier to manipulate.”

Ratpelt growled as Ferntooth moved to Mothfall’s side. “I did no such thing! If you thought I played favorites, then you’re the one with a distorted reality.”

“Shut up,” Berrystar grunted. “We’re deciding your fate here. If I were you, I’d start acting sympathetic, and fast.”

Shortleg stood up, their gray-flecked tail lashing side to side as they spoke. “It was you who injured Mothfall when she was an apprentice, wasn’t it? You overtrained her, and she was stuck in the medicine den for half a moon.”

Several cats nodded. “I remember that,” Russetfur mewed. “The elders’ den had never been cleaner.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that she’s a liar.” Snailwhisper sauntered over to Ratpelt’s side. He nodded at the tom as he sat down. Russetnose cast her denmate a sad glance as she moved to Mothfall’s side. 

Grasseyes cleared his throat, and the rest of the senior warriors – Birdsong, Weedwhisker, and Acorntuft - moved to Ratpelt’s side.

“You!” Smallheart turned on Ratpelt, fur bristling. Despite her short legs and pregnant, round belly, the molly looked so ferocious that even Shortleg stepped back in alarm.

“You comforted me when Puddlesplots died,” she spat. “Were you even sad? Or was it all fake? When I told you I was expecting his kits, before I told anycat else, the first thing you said was that you wanted to mentor one. Was that kindness? Or was that just another part of your scheme?”

Ratpelt drew himself up to his full height. “I meant what I said. Your kits will be great warriors. It would be an honor to mentor one.”

“You mean they’ll be great because you’ll train them to mindlessly believe everything you say!” Smallheart spat. Shortleg nudged her, and she fell in line beside Mothfall. Shortleg glanced at Mothfall, their expression hard to read. Still, she dipped her head towards her old mentor, grateful to have their support.

Beelight followed silently, herding the kits tumbling about her paws as she went. “Seedshade didn’t survive. But at least Mothfall tried to help. That’s more than I can say about _him_.” With a grateful glance towards the ginger molly, she added, “And if it wasn’t for her, I would have never been lead to these kits, the new joys of my life.”

Mothfall’s heart rose. She had more cats on her side than Ratpelt! But just as quickly, her spirits fell as Rapidfoot and Meadowstripe stepped onto Ratpelt’s side. “We just want a quiet transition into a predictable leadership for our kits' sake,” Rapidfoot murmured quietly. Ratpelt smirked.

“You’re my friend,” Bravefeather announced, stepping over to Ratpelt’s side. “I trust you.” He flattened his ears when his mother grumbled something foul. "If you actually listened to Ratpelt, instead of this cat who barely has a claim to the warrior title, maybe you'd understand," he spat. Briarstreak flinched, and Shortleg glared at the brown tom as they turned to muzzle Briarstreak in comfort. Shortleg had been friends with Bravefeather, too, and it must have hurt to see him choose Ratpelt over them. 

Troutpath stepped forward. “I don’t know Mothfall very well, but she's my mate's sister, and I trust Ferntooth's judgement with my life. Besides, I do know that Ratpelt never had anything but bad news to say about Pricklepaw’s mentor.” He glanced at Grasseyes, who flattened his ears. “He took it upon himself to give Pricklepaw ‘special training.’ I always asked Pricklepaw why he didn’t bring up his concerns with Grasseyes, but she could never give me a straight answer.”

Cats on both sides murmured at this news. Troutpath flicked his tail. “I don’t know what Ratpelt did or didn’t do. But at least with Mothfall, you always know where you stand with her.” He moved to her side of the line.

Specklefur glanced sadly at his brother as he moved to stand opposite him, with Ratpelt. “Ratpelt was my mentor. Our relationship has been… a bit rocky, at times,” Mothfall stood up straighter, wondering if he was thinking of the day he came into camp limping and wouldn’t explain himself. “But I trust him. He taught me well, and he taught Pricklepaw well, too, even though Troutpath won’t admit it.”

Heavysong moved to stand beside Ratpelt, and Beechtail followed at his heels. “Ratpelt raised my kit to be a fine warrior.” She mewed, glancing in Specklefur’s direction. “I wish I had known about his involvement with Pricklepaw, but I’m sure he was only helping her be the best warrior she could be. I couldn’t ask for a better mentor for my kits.”

That left Oakpaw, Mudpaw, and Tawnywhisker left. The two apprentices glanced at each other, and Oakpaw shuffled his paws before ducking his head.

Mudpaw nodded at Tawnywhisker. “We’ll do whatever you decide,” she whispered.

Tawnywhisker eyed Mothfall. Mothfall forced herself to meet the sandy-furred molly's gaze. She flinched under the young warrior's icy ferocity. 

“I’m not as forgiving as Beelight,” she mewed. “You agreed to help Ambereye. In my eyes, that means you’re just as responsible as him for the deaths of our Clanmates.” At mothfall’s side, Ambereye shifted in his seat. “The deaths of my mentor, father, and grandfather are on your paws. Plus, after Seedshade..." she broke off, unwilling to say ' _died,_ ' "He was the one who stepped in to mentor me. Not Mothfall. And I was depressed and hated everything, and I argued with Ratpelt more often than not, but he never raised his voice at me. I think I'd even say he liked me."

She stepped towards Ratpelt's side. The darn brown tabby grinned and lifted his chin. 

"But..." Tawnywhisker hisitated, stopped before her paws fell onto Ratpelt's side of the camp. "But as an only kit, I was lonely, and Mothfall seemed to be the only cat who cared. She talked to me when no cat else would, until Oakpaw and Mudpaw were born." Oakpaw shuffled his paws, embarrassed at being called out. Tawnywhisker whisker her tail against the reddish-brown tom's side. When she turned back to Mothfall, her steely gaze had softened. Not much. But just enough. “We used to be friends, and you never stopped looking out for me, even when I stopped looking out for you. I think… I think I’d like to be friends with you again, someday.”

She stepped over to Mothfall’s side. Mudpaw and Oakpaw followed tight on her heels, eyes stretched wide with surprise. 

“It’s a tie,” Ratpelt remarked, twitching his ear in surprise.

“Now what?” Mothfall asked, fighting to keep the panic from her mew. She swayed, trying to keep the ground firmly below her paws. Ambereye pressed his paw over hers, holding her in place. 

Berrystar grunted. “Now we leave it up to StarClan to decide. Ambereye, can you--”

“Forget StarClan!” Ratpelt spat. He leapt to his paws. “Berrystar, let me fight Mothfall. The winner earns their right to deputy.”

“What?” cried out Berrystreak. Other cats called out, protesting this unexpected turn of events.

Berrystar rose to her paws, waving everycat down with her tail. When the crowd silenced, she turned towards Ratpelt, her eyes glittering with an unreadable expression. Mothfall’s gut twisted. “What would happen to the loser?” asked Berrystar.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ratpelt spat. “The loser dies.”

Berrystar grunted. She motioned for Mothfall to step forward with a flick of her paws. “I agree to your terms, Ratpelt. You may proceed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUN! Now the Clan knows! And now Mothfall has to... kill her own dad? Geeze. Who thought that was a good idea? (I mean, Berrystar, I guess.)
> 
> I want to say thank you so much to everyone who's been following along so far, whether you are a new reader or have been here since chapter 1. We're now officially on the second page for the most comments and only the third one listed with entirely original characters! We're also on the second page for hits for stories with original characters. That's so awesome! Stats aside, I'm just so thrilled that so many people have read and enjoyed this little story of mine! I started writing this story to de-stress from the wild reality that is our world, and I never imagined it getting so much love. 
> 
> All that aside, I hope y'all enjoyed! :>


	21. The Sentencing

Mothfall braced her paws as she faced off against Ratpelt. The other Clanmembers backed off, forming a ring around them. Ratpelt glared, the only movement the ticking of his tail. “Well?” he growled.

“This is ridiculous,” Ambereye protested. “Berrystar, you can’t be serious. Mothfall’s half Ratpelt’s age! She’s never even been in a real fight before.”

Berrystar grunted. “Very well. If you insist. We’ll hold both cats prisoner in camp while you go to the moonpool to ask StarClan’s wishes.”

“No.” Mothfall surprised herself with the tenacity of her own meow. Berrystar turned to her, face as deadpan as ever, but Mothfall swore she saw a flicker of surprise hidden in her steely gaze. “No,” she repeated. “I want to do this. Ratpelt deserves to be taken down.”

Berrystar flicked her ear.

“Are you sure?” Ambereye murmured, his breath warm and reassuring as it tickled her ear.

“Yes.”

Her father lied, manipulated and abused his way to get to his status. Pricklepaw, Creekfur, Wildstep, herself… Who knows how many other cats he used to get what he wanted?

If it meant he’d never hurt another cat again, she would gladly end his time on earth.

Ratpelt lashed his tail and circled around the edges of the crowd. Mothfall followed, circling opposite him. She eyed her opponent, stuffing down her feelings of conflict and trying to formulate a strategy in her mind. She’d never fought anycat, outside of her apprentice training. How ironic that her first real fight was against one of the cats who helped her become a warrior.

Ratpelt snarled, and Mothfall bared her teeth.

She had the advantage of size, and her thick, long fur that would protect her from injury. On the other paw, Ratpelt was nimble and light on his feet, and he had seasons of experience on her. He’d been in real fights, real border skirmishes before.

And, of course, he had one advantage that she could never make up for. He didn’t have a coordination disorder. His body moved the way he told it to, and he didn’t struggle to judge distances or depths. Mothfall swallowed thickly, realizing how unevenly this fight was stacked against her.

But she had one thing Ratpelt didn’t. He had a reputation to uphold.

And Mothfall? She had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

She lunged forward, claws unsheathed and fangs bared as she let loose a shrill yowl.

Her teeth snapped on empty air.

Already, she had misjudged her distance. Cats around her cried out, cheering for Ratpelt or herself. The sounds filled her ears like water, and she shook her head, trying to clear it. She struggled to block out the sound and remember something, anything, from her days as an apprentice.

She blinked, trying to focus her vision, and her gaze fell upon Shortleg. The small gray-flecked cat stretched their eyes wide as they locked gazes. So subtly she was barely certain she saw it, they spread their paws and pat the ground.

Of course. Don’t focus on Ratpelt. Focus on landing on the ground where he’s standing. She knows this camp like the back of her paw and from the hours she’s spent running all over it tending to sick patients or caring for her Clanmates, she could leap anywhere from any spot. Focus on the where, not the who.

She turned towards Ratpelt, who was crouching a few tail-lengths away, recovering his balance. She could do this. She dashed forward, swiping at his legs with her paws. He hopped backwards to avoid her attack, and while he was airbound Mothfall darted underneath him, twisting around to slash at his underbelly with her claws.

As her legs collided with his body, he threw himself upwards, using her momentum to roll away from her and safely onto the ground.

Nights spent training on that very move as an apprentice whirled through Mothfall’s mind. Of course, he would use the special moves he taught her against her now! Mothfall growled, but before anger could cloud her vision, she took a deep breath. This was just like any other training session.

Except this training session had claws unsheathed, she thought, swallowing thickly at the sight of Ratpelt’s large claws scraping the earth.

Ratpelt ran forward this time, and Mothfall leapt to the side, trying to dodge his attack. He had anticipated her move (of course he had; they’d trained this move together, too) and swung around to headbutt into her exposed side, knocking the air out of her lungs and barreling her over. Mothfall yelped as Ratpelt pinned her down, one hind leg resting on her belly as he bared his teeth dangerously close to her neck.

Mothfall kicked with her legs and kicked again. She managed to unbalance him just enough to wriggle free. Dirt and pine needles clung to her fur as she rolled to her paws, puffing to catch her breath.

She flung herself at Ratpelt again, this time aiming at his legs, hoping to unbalance him. She knocked him over, but he rolled forward and back onto his paws, swiping at her leg with his claws as he passed. Mothfall hissed and bounced back as her leg stung. She didn’t have time to check if she was bleeding.

She swiped at Ratpelt, and grinned as she felt her claws hit flesh. Ratpelt stumbled backwards, blinking in surprise. Blood trickled down from a scratch across his cheek. He snarled and paced in a circle. Mothfall fell in pace opposite him, and the two circled each other, seeking an entrance.

“Go for the throat!” Ferntooth snarled.

“Hit her legs! It’s her weak point!” called out Snailwhisper.

“Silence,” Ratpelt rumbled. At his command, the crowd died down, until all Mothfall could hear was her own gasping for breath. Ratpelt smirked at Mothfall, whiskers twitching as if to say, _See how I control them? I’m already their deputy in everything but name._

 _Enough_. Yowling with anger, Mothfall flung herself at him, slashing in abandon. Ratpelt grinned and ducked. Mothfall’s yowl of anger turned into a screech of pain as her belly burned. She stumbled and fell, tumbling and rolling over.

Claws dug into her tail, and Mothfall screeched as Ratpelt dragged her backwards. “Disabled welp,” he growled. “You’re too broken to fend for yourself. You are _nothing_ without me.”

“I’m not alone,” Mothfall panted, fighting to get back her breath. “My family fights alongside me today.”

“Your family? What family?” Ratpelt snarled. He dug his claws into her tail, grinning as she winced and cried out in pain. His claws raked down, stopping when they met resistance. “What’s this?” he growled. He split the fur on her tail and scoffed. “Is this a _token_? From a RiverClan cat, I presume? Are you in cahoots with a RiverClan cat?”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Mothfall hissed.

Ratpelt laughed. His fangs flashed, and Mothfall braced herself, expecting to feel pain surge through her flesh. Instead, she felt Ratpelt’s hot breath on her tail, and heartbeats later the sound of something skidding across the ground. He spat out a leather cord and a chewed-up flower on the ground.

Rage flared through Mothfall. She struck out with her back legs, pleased to feel her paw smack solidly into flesh. Ratpelt yowled and stumbled back, shaking his head and staggering.

Mothfall gasped for breath. Blood roared in her ears. The Clan pressed in around her, and she felt like the world was pressing down on her, suffocating her.

“Get up,” Ferntooth urged. She pushed through the cats until she was next to Mothfall. Her dark yellow eyes flashed. “Don’t give up!”

Don’t give up. All of those moons training, with Shortleg, with her littermates, with Ratpelt, came down to this moment. Mothfall rolled onto her side, gasping in pain as her belly screeched in pain. Ratpelt stalked towards her, tail ticking side to side. He licked his lips and sneered. She watched him approach, her body limp. Her paws scrambled at the ground.

Victory flashed in Ratpelt’s gaze. He stood above her, leering down at her. “So, this is what you’ve become?”

“Yes,” mewed Mothfall.

And she swiped at Ratpelt’s legs with her outstretched claws.

Snailwhisper had only been partially right. Her legs _had_ been her weak point, at one time. And with all of her moons of training with Ratpelt, she knew the distances between her and him, as easy as breathing. Moons of training and vigilance had made her strong. She could move every muscle with the strength of a striking snake.

Ratpelt, on the other paw, had never fought for anything in his life.

He didn’t even cry out as the ground was swept out from underneath his paws. In a flash, Mothfall leapt at his throat. “That’s what you get for underestimating the cat that _you_ trained.” She pinned his side down with her paws and dug her claws into his side. He squirmed, but she had him pinned.

A hush fell over the crowd. The cats leaned forward, waiting to see what would happen.

Mothfall met Ratpelt’s eyes. He spat at her paws. “Kill me, then,” he growled. “I’ll haunt your dreams for the rest of your days. I’ll make you so miserable that you’ll beg to join the Dark Forest when you die, just to be rid of me.” He sneered, and his tail curled around her back legs. “Unless... you’re afraid to miss?”

She hesitated, white paws digging into the dark tom’s side, considering his glittering gaze as her belly roiled with unease. If Ratpelt died tonight, would he go to StarClan or the Dark Forest?

Like a star shone down on him from the sky and caused him to glow, she caught sight of Ambereye. He didn’t speak, but he nodded when he caught her eye. His amber eye glinted with reassurance. No, not reassurance. Concern.

Ambereye’s words from long ago rang in her ears, as clearly as if he had just spoken: _It’s hard for a cat to enter the Dark Forest, unless they’ve specifically aligned themselves with the cats that reside there._

Her pelt prickled as she silently begged the stars for a sign. As if he had heard her pleas for help, Ambereye leaned forward, and as if he had whispered in her ear, she heard his steady, calm meow: “You got this. We believe in you.”

_Most cats that leave the Clans, whether it’s of their own choice or not, turn their backs on all aspects of Clan life. That includes StarClan._

The cats around her pressed forward, calling out and cheering her on. Every cat called her name, now. Somewhere behind her, she heard a call rasp, “Go on! Kill him, already!”

Mothfall stood up, facing her father. He met her gaze, eyes burning with defiance. She backed off, leaving Ratpelt to roll to his paws.

“Killing him would be a mercy. The true punishment would be to exile him and remove his opportunity to lie and cheat his way through life. Tell the other Clans that if he ever sets paw in the territories again, he’s to be treated as a warrior would a fox or a badger.”

“What?” Ratpelt’s eyes widened. “But think about everything I’ve done. Would you really have me roaming around the world, free to do as I please? Wouldn’t you rather I be in your Clan, your loyal servant? Or perhaps up in StarClan, offering guidance?”

“You don’t deserve StarClan,” Mothfall hissed. “You turned your back on family when you decided your actions had no consequences, so now your family turn their back on you.”

“You wouldn’t,” he hissed.

“She already did.” Berrystar pushed him forward. Ferntooth hissed at him, and Smallheart spat. “Get out of here. Leave.”

“What? Now?” Ratpelt asked. He shrank back, looking pitifully small. His yellow eyes stretched wide. “I don’t know how to survive without a Clan.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you got yourself exiled,” Briarstreak grumbled from somewhere in the crowd.

“You only know how to bend other cats to your will,” Berrystar sneered. “I won’t repeat myself again. Get out.” She glaed at the Clan. “Anycat who disagrees with me is welcome to go with him.”

Ratpelt gazed at Grassyes. The speckled tom shuffled his paws and looked away. “My family is here, Ratpelt,” he mumbled. “Besides, why would I want to go with you? You’re not offering me anything I don’t already have here.”

“What about friendship?” Ratpelt pleaded. “Or a like mind? None of these ShadowClan fools come close to matching your intellect.”

“Oh, and you do? Please,” Grasseyes snorted. “Get out of my sight.”

Ratpelt crawled towards the entrance. At the entrance, he stopped and turned around. “You’ll regret this,” he snarled.

Just like that, he was gone. The only sign of his passing was the hint of his fear-scent in the air, and the slight movement of the brambles along the camp entrance as he had pushed past.

Berrystar sniffed. “Good riddance. Shortleg, take a patrol at sundown and make sure he’s left the territory. I’ll personally visit the other clans and share the news.”

Shortleg dipped his head.

“Now,” Berrystar mewed, back to business. The rest of the Clan stared at her blankly, still in shock from learning that one of their supposed loyal warriors had betrayed them.

“Who’s going to be our deputy now?” asked Rapidfoot, glancing at the entrance where Ratpelt had just disappeared, as if a new cat would burst through and declare themselves deputy.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Fernooth mewed, interrupting her. “It has to be Mothfall. She earned it, fair and square.”

“Mothfall?” asked Birdsong. “But she hasn’t had an apprentice yet.”

“She’ll mentor Adderkit,” Ferntooth insisted. “His apprenticeship is only a few moons away.”

“She’s already had an apprentice. Several of them, in fact,” Shortleg hopped forward, and gazed at Mothfall with amazement evident in their blue eyes. “Ever since she became a warrior, she’s looked out for the entire Clan like we were one of her own. Even when we weren’t there for her, she was there for us. Who could ask for a more caring deputy?”

Oakpaw stepped forward. “I agree,” he declared. “Mothfall took care of me when I was sick. She looked out for Tawnywhisker when no cat was around to listen to her. She taught us how to pad the left side of Shiningeyes’ den more than the right, to support their aching bones. She taught us things our mentors never could.” He blinked at her.

“What about her injury?” Snailwhisper sneered. “She’d be a liability in a battle.”

“It’s a disorder, not an injury. And Mothfall can hold her own,” Shortleg countered. “She takes good care of her body. Better than most of you, I might add,” they glared at Snailwhisper, who curled his tail around his weak leg, weakened by arthritis, and flattened his ears against his head. “She stretches every day, has trained harder than any cat I’ve ever seen to become a warrior.”

Mothfall lifted her chin. “With all due respect, I disagree,” she mewed. “I am qualified to be deputy _because_ of my disorder, not despite of it. My disorder is a part of me. When you say you value my compassion, or my hard work, you are loving the cat I am _because_ of my disorder.”

Ambereye nodded, eyes glowing. “Well said.”

One by one, cats murmured their agreement, all calling for Mothfall to be deputy. Even Grasseyes nodded in agreement. “I had hoped to be deputy one day, and leader after,” he admitted, “but I’m far too old for that now. I may not agree with everything Mothfall’s said—or that I think she’s said,” he added as Ambereye glowered, “but she cares about the Clan. That’s one of the best qualities in a future leader I could ask for.”

Mothfall turned to Berrystar. The black-and-white molly examined her, expression hard to read. “Well, this isn’t how I imagined our deputy ceremony to go at all, but it seems my Clan has spoken. Who am I to disagree? Mothfall, come here, please.”

Mothfall stepped up until she was in front of Berrystar. Her paws trembled.

Berrystar dipped her head. “I say these words before StarClan, so that the spirits of our warrior ancestors may hear and approve of my choice. The new deputy of ShadowClan is Mothfall.”

She pressed her nose to Mothfall’s. As Mothfall stepped back, blinking in shock as she tried to process everything that was happening, Ambereye pressed his face into her side. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmured. “You would have been a good medicine cat, you know.” He purred as Mothfall bristled. “But you’ll make an even better leader. Go enjoy your victory. You’ve earned it.” His whiskers twitched with amusement as he pressed her towards her Clanmates. “And see me when you’re done. You’ll need somecat to take care of those wounds.”

Glancing gratefully at him, she stepped towards her Clanmates. They stared at her, eyes wide. Ferntooth leapt forward and weaved herself around Mothfall, until their ginger fur blurred together. “Mothfall! Mothfall! Mothfall!”

The rest of the Clan joined in, calling out for their new deputy. Some looked less enthusiastic than others, but, Mothfall noted with a warm heart, not a single cat refused to say her name.

And as Ferntooth, and Ambereye, and Shortleg and everyone else rushed forward to congratulate her, Mothfall relaxed. For the first time in a long time, maybe in her whole life, she was surrounded on every side by family who chose to love her.

Finally, she was _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah! Finally! The end of a long struggle. My baby moth isn't so baby anymore :') Please make sure to tune in on Monday for the final update! We still have some loose ends to tie up, after all.


	22. Epilogue

Mothfall wove around Ferntooth, her kits, and Shortleg, too excited to sit still. Almost a half-moon had passed since she was made deputy, and though her wounds had healed, her paws still tingled every time she remembered: _Ratpelt is gone. And_ I’m _Deputy!_

She glanced at Ambereye, who held his head close to Grasseyes, mewing in a low tone. “You’ll be able to find the Moonpool safely without me?”

“Yes, Ambereye.”

“If you get lost, go find ThunderClan camp, and they’ll be able to point you in the right direction. Don’t try and play hero and wander around on your own, okay? I can’t lose my apprentice before he’s even been introduced to StarClan.”

Grasseyes rolled his eyes. “Stars, Ambereye, you’d think I’ve never left camp before! We won’t even be gone for half the night.” He pushed the golden-brown tom forward. “I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you at the moonpool.”

“You’re my apprentice. It’s my job to worry about you.”

“I’m also older than you. I’ll be fine. Relax and have fun.”

“Okay,” Ambereye relented. “I’ll meet you there. Don’t let them start without me.”

“Go,” Grasseyes mewed.

Shortleg held out their paw, halting Mothfall in her tracks. She hopped over their stubby paw and kept moving. “You’re making me dizzy,” Shortleg purred. “Slow down.”

“I can’t help it,” Mothfall responded.

Ferntooth purred as she slid down onto her belly, allowed Blazekit and Runningkit to climb on top of her back, arguing about who was stronger. Runningkit pushed Blazekit, and Blazekit tackled Runningkit onto the groud, growling playfully. Ferntooth didn’t bat an eye as her kits tumbled about her. “You’re so wound up. Are you sure you’re my sister? Maybe you’re Ambereye’s kin.”

“Very funny.” Mothfall. “Are Troutpth and Beelight okay that we’re taking the kits out of camp?”

“Okay? They’re thrilled to have some personal time to themselves,” Ferntooth purred.

Mothfall turned to face Ambereye as he approached the group. “Are we ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Ambereye confirmed, glancing back at Grasseyes.

Shortleg nudged Ambereye towards the front entrance. “He got jittery when he first apprenticed Frogjump, too,” they told Mothfall. “Don’t mind him.”

Mothfall herded the others forward. The setting sun teased her; the half-moon would be rising soon, and she didn’t want to be late. She gave the camp one last look before she left, but stopped in her tracks when she saw Berrystar limping towards her from the leader’s den.

The leader grunted as she halted a few tail-lengths away from Mothfall. Was that amusement in the depths of her deadpan gaze? “You’ll be back in time to assign morning patrols, I assume?”

Mothfall straightened. “You’re not going to stop me?”

Berrystar flicked her tail in Ambereye’s direction. “I know better than to stand in the way of both my medicine cat and my deputy. Clearly, I’m outnumbered.”

Mothfall dipped her head. “We’ll be back before dawn. Bravefeather’s leading a night patrol; he should be heading out soon.”

“Good.” Berrystar jerked her head in a stiff nod. “I’m glad to hear that you’re taking your job as deputy seriously.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Mothfall tilted her head.

Berrystar flicked her ear. “This may come as a surprise to you, but you’re very different from my last deputy.”

Mothfall’s tail flicked, uncertain if the black-and-white molly was joking. “I see.”

“Briarstreak has been my best friend since we were apprentices. She believed in my vision. You don’t. You challenge everything I’ve ever done.”

Mothfall hesitated, before eking out, “You’re welcome?”

Berrystar’s whiskers twitched. “Yes, maybe that’s the correct response. Maybe it’s good to have a deputy that isn’t afraid to push her leader to be the best she can be.”

“I think that’s exactly what a deputy is supposed to do.” Mothfall lifted her chin.

“It’ll make you a good leader, that’s for sure.” Berrystar looked away, and for the first time ever, Mothfall swore the leader looked concerned. No, not concerned. Ashamed. “I haven’t said I’m sorry since before I became a leader, and I don’t intend to change that now.”

“That’s fine. I don’t intend to change, either. It’ll keep you humble.”

A deep rumble rose out of Berrystar's throat as she laughed. “If you think I know anything about staying humble, than you don't know me as well as I thought.” But her eyes twinkled with amusement, and she clearly wasn't offended. “I look forward to working with you. Go, enjoy your time with your family.”

Mothfall nodded and turned around, ready to head out.

“Mothfall,” Berrystar called after her. “Keep them safe.”

Mothfall gathered she meant more than just for tonight. “I will.”

She padded to Shortleg, Ferntooth, and Amebereye. “Ready?” Pushing ahead, she lead them towards the lake. Shortleg limped close behind, and she slowed down so they wouldn’t have to rush. After hearing Shortleg stumble, she rested her tail over their shoulder. “Follow in my pawsteps.”

“Thanks,” Shortleg puffed. “It’s so hard to see. Night blindness and all.”

The kits scampered around her paws, and she laughed as Blazekit tried to duck underneath her and caused her to stumble. “You’re larger than you think. Maybe we should skip apprenticeship and make you warriors straight away.”

“Can you really do that?” Blazekit asked, eyes wide.

Mothfall purred and pressed onward.

As they proceeded, she noticed Adderkit perking up and taking more interest in their surroundings the farther they got from camp. He chased after his littermates, and nosed around in the pine needles. At one point, he made a loud chirping noise and his littermates rushed over to see what he’d found. Heartbeats later, Runningkit squealed and backpeddled. “It’s a _worm_!” she cried out. “Gross!”

“Worms are good for the earth,” Ambereye mewed mildly. “So best to leave it be.”

Adderkit chirped. He set the worm back down and ran after his littermates.

Mothfall glanced at Ferntooth. “Has he ever acted this alert before?”

Ferntooth watched him go, eyes shining. “Sometimes, if he wakes up in the early mornings, before anycat else.”

Mothfall nodded. “I wonder if the loud noises around camp upset him. I’ll take him out of camp by himself tomorrow, if that’s okay with you and your mates, Fern. I can teach him how to learn when he’s becoming overwhelmed by all of the noise. Maybe teach him some signals for communication, too, since he seems mute most of the time.”

“You’ll be a great mentor,” Shortleg mewed.

“It’s because I _had_ a great mentor,” Mothfall replied. “Two great ones, actually.” She angled her ears forward. “We’re almost here.” Her paws trembled as she approached. Was this really a good idea?

Ferntooth beckoned her kits to her side as they broke through the tree line. The lake broke into view, mirroring the half-moon on the horizon in broken symmetry. The kits gasped in awe, and even Ambereye made a noise of appreciation. “It’s rare that I get to see anything but the moonpool on these nights,” he murmured. “I forget how beautiful the rest of the world looks.”

“Hey, look, it’s Mothfall!” a voice called out from the halfbridge. “And she’s brought friends!”

The FunClan cats were all gathered on the halfbridge. Gone was the need for distancing, and she could see Dapplecall, Silverleaf, Flash, and Freckle all piled together. Creekfur ran her paws down Shortstone’s side, asking her some question that the stone-gray molly answered with enthusiasm. Pebblestripe and Martysplash were all engrossed in a conversation; judging by the dampness of Martysplash’s and Pebblestripe’s fur, they were arguing over whose splash was better.

Mothfall bounded forward, eager to greet her friends. Shortstone met her halfway, rubbing her face against Mothfall’s, purring so hard it made Mothfall shake. “Thank the stars you’re okay.”

“More than okay,” Mothfall mewed, still surging forward to greet the others. “I’m deputy now. And Ratpelt’s gone forever.”

“I heard about that when Berrystar visited our camp,” Martysplash mewed, eyes wide. She shuddered. “I can’t imagine being exiled.” 

“Don’t worry. He deserved it,” muttered Ferntooth, pressing against Mothfall.

“Is this your sister?” Shortstone asked, nodding to Ferntooth.

“Is that it? I thought I was seeing two Mothfalls!” Freckle purred, and Flash shoved her.

Mothfall’s ears burned as Silverleaf stepped forward. “Did I hear right? You’re deputy now?”

“We’ve never had a deputy in our ranks,” mewed Flash. “What, does this mean you’re our leader now?”

“I’d rather not,” mewed Mothfall, squirming under everycat’s attention. “You’re my family. Not my underlings.”

“Good,” muttered Flash.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re not anything.” Creekfur grumbled.

She took a deep breath. Whatever she’d done in the past, it’s been done. “I realized that I had hurt you all by disappearing, the way that I did. I thought I was being brave, but really, I was being selfish. I wasn’t putting my family first, because you guys are my family, and I left you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

For a heartbeat, no cat responded. Mothfall braced herself, and is planning the best way to gracefully make an exit without screwing things up even more when Dapplecall broke out into a purr. “Of course, you’re welcome!” they called. “Once a FunClan cat, always a FunClan cat.”

Flash and Freckle shrug, both clearly nonplussed, and even Pebblestripe and Martysplash reluctantly nod.

Mothfall turned to Creekfur. The silver-striped molly stared back at her, fur bristling. Dapplecall touched their nose to her shoulder, and Creekfur shrugged them off. But eventually she, too, dipped her head. “I’m not going to act like nothing happened,” she murmured. “But I have to believe that, if given a chance, you’ll make things right.”

“Thank you,” Mothfall breathed, as the rest of the FunClan cats cheer.

“Are you going to introduce us to your friends?” Dapplecall mewed, pushing themselves into an upright position. Their eyes were still sunken and haggard, but as they glanced at Creekfur, their eyes glowed with affection.

As if their calling was a signal, the kits tumbled forward, eager to say hello to these strange cats. Ferntooth stepped forward, attempting to call them back, but Mothfall ran her tail over their side. “They’ll be fine. FunClan wouldn’t hurt a fly.” At her sister’s confusion, she cleared her throat. “Oh. Um, right. FunClan, this is my ShadowClan family. ShadowClan, this is my FunClan family. I thought it was only fitting for you guys to meet.”

“Hey, I know you,” Silverleaf tilted her head, peering at the assembled cats. “Aren’t you the ShadowClan medicine cat?”

“I am.” Ambereye dipped his head. “And I am honored to be a part of Mothfall’s family. She would have made an excellent medicine cat, but she’ll be just as good a leader, if not better. I’ve watched her struggle so much to find her place in this Clan, and, well…” he beamed at her, “Her struggles have made her a better cat.”

Ferntooth tried to press against her, but Mothfall stepped back, fur bristling. “Please don’t say that.”

“Say what?” Ambereye tilted his head.

“That my struggles made me a better cat. Don’t justify the pain I’ve gone through. I shouldn’t have had to deal with my father’s abuse, or put up with snide comments that I was never fit to be a warrior. I shouldn’t have to overwork myself so hard I end up in the medicine den more than once, just to prove that I’m just as worthy as other ShadowClan warriors who’ve never done any of that.”

Stunned, Ambereye blinked.

The FunClan cats murmured agreement. “Here, here,” called Shortstone.

“As future leader of ShadowClan, I want to make sure no cat ever feels hurt like I did. Just because we’re not kicking out our disabled cats doesn’t mean we’re welcoming them as a part of this Clan. Briarstreak and Berrystar told me themselves that they fought harder than any cat to get to where they are today, and they didn’t seem to realize what was wrong with that. They didn’t even consider that some cats can’t do that,” she glanced at Adderkit, who had snuggled up against Dapplecall and was kneading their paws into their belly, “and that no cat should _have_ to.”

Ambereye’s eyes shone. “You’ve grown more than I could have ever hoped,” he murmured.

“Your brother would be proud of you,” Creekfur added. Mothfall stared, shocked to see her speaking in support of her. “You’re doing what he said you couldn’t. You’re making a place for lovers, not warriors.”

“Where did you learn how to do this?” Shortstone asked. “Certainly you didn’t learn it from your poor old mentor.” As Shortleg ducked their head in embarrassment, Shortstone purred in amusement.

Mothfall turned to all of the gathered cats. “I learned it from all of you. My family.”

Dapplecall scooped Adderkit close with their paws, but they didn’t take their eyes off Mothfall. “Hey, Mothball, what’s that in your tail?” their eyes glittered, as if they already knew the answer.

Mothfall held her tail up for everycat to see. “It’s the token Dapplecall gave me when I became a warrior.” Broken, battered, and more than a little clawed up, but still as sturdy as ever.

“Won’t ShadowClan cats tease you for wearing that?” asked Pebblestripe. “Or do they not dare diss their deputy?”

“They do, but I don’t care anymore. If I waste all of my energy trying to fit in, I’ll never make the Clans better.”

“I think that’s a dumb place to put it,” piped up Freckle. “Clearly, it’s supposed to be a collar. Why put it on your tail? It’s mostly covered by your fur.”

“What would you know?” challenged Flash. “Your head is empty.”

“Is not!”

“Name one thought you’ve had.”

“I’ve thought that, uh… this!” Freckle growled and launched herself at Flash, growling playfully.

“Are they always like this?” Ferntooth meowed, her yellow eyes growing wide.

“Pretty much,” Shortstone's whiskers twitched.

“Well, I love it!” Runningkit declared as she bounded up to Ferntooth’s side. “Can we come every half-moon?”

“Ask again when you’re older,” Fernooth scooped Runningkit close. Growing serious, the dark ginger molly pressed against Mothfall’s side. “I wish Smokeheart could see this right now. He would be so proud of you.”

“You really think so?” Mothfall asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

“Of course. Look at what you’ve done. You’ve proved not only that there is a space for love in the Clans, but that we are stronger when we love than when we fight.” Ferntooth purred.

Before Mothfall could respond, Wildkit ran underneath her paws. “Momma! This cat says she’s a momma cat, too! You should talk to her!”

Ferntooth looked at Mothfall. “Will you be okay?”

Mothfall purred. “Of course I will. Go on.”

She watched as Wildkit lead Ferntooth to Creekfur, bouncing in between them with excitement. Ambereye and Shortleg had fallen deep into discussion with Pebblestripe, and even Adderkit looked excited as Dapplecall and Silverleaf nestled him in between them.

Mothfall thought that her heart couldn’t grow any more.

“Follow me.” The stone-gray molly slipped out of Mothfall’s grip, towards the lake shore. Mothfall padded after her, curiosity getting the better of her. Shortstone stopped in front of one of the logs that supported the halfbridge. “Here.”

“Here?” Mothfall echoed. She stepped forward, eyeing the log. “You mean… you want me to add my name?”

“Of course.” Shortstone mewed. “only true members of FunClan can add their marking to the log, as a reminder of their existence. I want you to add yours.”

Mothfall tilted her head. “Are you sure that this isn’t a fancy way of conning me into staying with FunClan?”

Shortstone purred. “That is an added bonus. But really, I want you to understand we love you. You’re our friend, and you’re a valued member of FunClan.”

“I don’t know…” Mothfall hesitated. “I’ve never tried marking something like this before.”

“Neither did I?”

Mothfall snorted. She stepped up beside Shortstone, rocking back onto her hind legs to brace her front legs against the log. “No offense, but I think a moth is harder to draw than a flat rock.”

“Hey! You said yourself that it looked like a dead frog!” Shortstone headbutted Mothfall, tail curling in amusement.

Mothfall unsheathed her claw, testing the log to see how easily it marked. Her claw sunk into the soft wood, and she snorted. “This wood is so soft, It’s a miracle the halfbridge hasn’t collapsed underneath us.” She sank her claws into the log again, carving out deft, curving strokes. She stuck out her tongue as she concentrated. The motions weren’t normal for any cat, and her pawstrokes were wobbly and uncertain. Still, when she pulled back, she felt satisfied that what she had drawn was recognizably a moth.

She turned to Shortstone, who was examining her work with thought. “It’s not falling.”

“Oh, come on,” Mothfall purred, nudging Shortstone. “You, Dapplecall, Pebblestripe, and Freckle, all did variations of circles, and Creekfur and Flash did straight lines. I’m _sorry_ my name is too complicated and nuanced to perfectly capture in wood.”

“I suppose it’ll have to do.” Shortstone’s amusement died off. “I’m glad you came back.”

“Yeah,” Mothfall breathed. “Me, too.”

“Oh, there you are!” Dapplecall’s voice appeared above them. Mothfall craned her neck back under she could see the dapple cat watching them from on top of the halfbridge. “Did you add your name? It’s about time. But we haven’t seen you in ages! We need to catch up!”

“Oh, is she down there?” Ambereye’s muffled mew carried over the din of the other talking cats. “Can you tell her that I want to say goodbye before I head to the moonpool?”

Dapplecall flicked their ear. “You heard that, right? Get your butts up here!”

As they disappeared again, Shortstone pressed her forehead against Mothfall’s side, nudging her forward. “Well, you heard them,” she mewed. The two of them climbed back onto the halfbridge. Her heart skipped with joy to see the ShadowClan and FunClan cats completely intermingled, impossible to see where one group ended and the other began.

This is how it should be, Mothfall thought. One family, together.

Ferntooth beckoned them over, and Mothfall was quick to run to her sister’s side, nuzzling her face affectionately.

“These cats are amazing,” Ferntooth mewed earnestly. “I can see why you like them so much. Smokeheart would have liked them. And Pricklepaw too, I think.”

Mothfall swallowed thickly. “I hope so, too.”

“They’d both be proud of the cats you are today, if they could see you now,” Ferntooth mewed.

“You really think so?”

“Of course!” Ferntooth assured her, and at the same time Shortstone said, “Duh! ‘Cause _I’m_ proud of you. Who wouldn’t be?”

Both ginger mollies turned to stare at her, and she ducked her head, embarrassed. “I just mean, you’re pretty cool.”

“I think you’re pretty cool, too,” Mothfall purred.

Shortstone headbutted Mothfall. “I love you, Mothfall,” she murmured. “I think you’re my best friend.”

Mothfall purred and wrapped her arm around the stone-gray molly, holding her close. On her other side, Ferntooth pressed against her, purring. She surveyed the gathered cats; her two mentors, her friends, her _kin_. These were the cats worth loving and living for.

“I love you, too,” she responded. “I love you all.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaay! A happy ending at last! I've thought about including notes for what happens to the characters after the end of the story, but I hope to come back and write one-offs every now and then, so I won't spoil the fun now. :P But I will say that Adderkit is autistic, and he gets a more formal diagnosis soon, after Mothfall (with the help of Ambereye) works with him and figures out the specifics of his brainstuff. 
> 
> Thank you all for coming on this journey with me, whether you've been with me since the beginning or just catching up now, or if you were a silent reader or constant commenter. I hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I have writing! 
> 
> I don't have plans to write a full-length sequel, but I have a few ideas for one shots I want to tackle at some point, so be sure to follow my account if you want notifications for those. ;) I may also post some speedpaints or animatics on my youtube channel! I have one up already: https://youtu.be/7pCKqfcn--E (It's a Hamilmoth AU!) There is no pressure at all to view or comment, of course, but I tend to go through phases of more writing vs more art, so this may be a place to check out if you want to see other Moth stuff. (At this moment in time, youtube is the only platform I post art on.)
> 
> Thank you all again!! I can't thank y'all enough for the support and enthusiasm for what had started as a silly idea.


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